Hidden Jewel
by Lucky Duck 24
Summary: Gender bender, Lex Luthor is a female. It's less-centered on gender and more so on her and Clark's relationship. Once you get past the first few chapters, it's very plot heavy and is more AU than anything. Try it, you might like it.
1. New Beginnings

From the moment I could start to comprehend my life, I understood that I was meant for a throne. Maybe it wasn't a literal throne, but there was certainly a figurative throne that I would conquer one day. Every word that came from my father's mouth told me that he wanted me on the throne ever since my mother died. I guess he lost hope for another heir to his throne that day, so he started preparing me the best he could, considering I came out the wrong sex. My father always wished for a boy. He never said it out loud, to his credit. No, instead he said it with the far-off looks he got when he looked at me, the disappointed air around him when he talked to me about business, and the robust and happy way he told stories about great kings and male warriors who ruled with great terror and power and slayed dragons. All my life has been spent trying to reach the extremely high throne Lionel Luthor would give to me when he died, if the old man would ever let go of his empire for fear of losing his monopoly. He probably could stay alive out of sheer stubbornness and probably has with all the things the Luthor family has been through. Why did he even need an heir? He'd just hang on until I died from some mysterious accident anyways and appoint one of his corporate sharks to be CEO. After all, he trusts them more than he does me. I don't blame him. I don't trust him either.

Being Alexandra Luthor isn't all it's cracked up to be.

That was why I developed a nicotine addiction in my teens. It became something to soothe my nerves when I was stressed out, and suddenly I was stressed out all the time. Mysteriously, I've never hacked up a lung because of it or shown any signs of lung debilitation. I don't remember being sick since I was nine years old, when I got rid of my asthma. At the same time, my hair fell out. I was suddenly a bald little girl with spectacular health. Most kids thought I was going through chemotherapy or something and isolated me when they found out I wore different wigs. High school swimming was a bad idea. Wigs weren't something you could swim in. Swim caps couldn't hide everything, and the girls in private schools were sharks. My father had all of their fathers go suddenly bankrupt, but the idea that I wasn't normal stayed with me, even at twenty.

I was driving my favorite Porsche to Luthorcorp's plant in Smallville, my father having told me that it was a potential opportunity for me to prove myself. I was supposed to take it over and run it without Daddy's help so that he could see if I could hold my own. He was surprisingly overprotective at the moment, calling me every five minutes to confirm my location. When the cell phone rang again, I pressed the send button, keeping it on handsfree. "I'm fine, Dad. I'm not lost. I'm pretty sure I'm in Smallville considering how many cornfields I've passed." I reached for my purse in the passenger seat, pulling out a cigarette, sticking it between my lips, and searching for a lighter.

"Are you sure, Lex?" came Lionel's worried voice. "What landmark are you at?"

"I'm at some bridge," I mumbled through my cigarette, having a hard time of it. I brightened when I finally found my elusive lighter, flipping the Zippo open.

"Are you smoking again?"

"No, Dad--" I suddenly looked up as the wheel slipped out from under my hand's grip, turning sharply right. My eyes widened as I saw a teenaged boy in a red jacket standing right in the middle of my field of vision, then even more when I saw the bridge's railing behind him. I slammed on the brakes, but it didn't work, the car already going too fast to be stopped. I could swear my heart stopped as I was slammed forward, a flash of red on the windshield as the car buckled from breaking through the railing. Everything went dark as the car plunged into the water, feeling pain sting my head as I slipped into unconsciousness.

When I woke up, it felt like the San Andreas Fault had packed up and moved into my head. Everything I saw was blurry as my eyes opened to slits, and I faintly felt something on my chest. A voice muttered something out that seemed ethereal to my ears, and I felt lips on mine...before I turned my head sharply to the side, squeezing my eyes shut as I pushed out a great pressure in my chest, spitting out a good amount of water before I regained myself. Groaning, I looked up to see the boy I thought I'd driven into, my eyes squinting in confusion as his gazed back at me with concern. "Wh...What happened?" I could barely ask before I was wrapped up in blankets, being pulled to my feet and guided to a flat rock to sit on.

"Miss Luthor, are you alright?" It took me a few seconds to register that it was a paramedic, shining a penlight into my eyes and making me squint. "That's a pretty nasty cut on your head. It doesn't look like it needs stitches, though." He bandaged it with two thin strips with me disoriented the whole time, fixing my eyes on the tall boy in the red jacket who was looking at a limo that pulled up behind the ambulance.

"What happened?" I repeated.

"It appears that your car hit a coil of wire and went out of control--," the paramedic started to respond, but I cut him off, still looking at the boy.

"I wasn't asking you. I was asking him." I seemed to get his attention then, and he milled over to me. I suddenly had the reflex to check my wig, the strands beneath my fingers assuring me that it was still there. Good. "Lex Luthor." I proffered a hand, and he took it, having a strong grip that I had to shake my hand at afterward.

"Clark Kent." His blue eyes were brighter than mine and less gray, his black hair wet and stuck to his head, looking mussed and making him appear disgustingly innocent and adorable.

"Nice to meet you, Clark Kent. I guess I should thank you for pulling me out of a river and saving my life." I gave him a small smile, one I rarely gave anyone else. I cocked my head to the side, shaking it lightly and closing my eyes for a moment. "I could've sworn I hit you."

"I'm still here," he said simplistically as I tried to wrap my mind around what happened, him shrugging his shoulders a bit. "You must've missed me by a few feet."

"I still feel responsible. Here you were, peacefully enjoying your afternoon on a bridge, and some crazy lady nearly hits you with a car." God, that smile was adorable. Were all farm boys this appealing?

"I don't know about crazy. You seem pretty sane to me." That was my last peaceful moment before Lionel descended on me, pushing Clark completely out of the way and gripping my blanket-covered shoulders.

"Lex! Are you alright? One moment I was talking to you, and the next all I hear is screaming brakes and a crash before your phone disconnects!" To his credit, Lionel managed to look disheveled, his long mane of hair a little messed up. Perfect appearance for the so-called caring dad.

"I'm fine, Dad. I went underwater, but luckily Clark Kent was there to pull me out." I motioned to him and Lionel turned his attention on him, me giving Clark an apologetic smile and a small shrug of the shoulders.

"Why, thank you, Mr. Kent...I'm personally indebted to you for saving my daughter's life. If there's anything you need, just call me." Lionel flashed a smile and gave Clark a business card.

I was taken to the hospital, Smallville Medical Center, as a precaution and released the next day. Lionel was nowhere to be seen for the moment, so I decided to go sight-seeing. Because of my car's untimely mutilation, I ended up walking around downtown, nothing of real interest appearing to me. I went inside an arts and crafts store where an elderly woman was watching me closely from behind the counter, examining some objects I found interesting because of their historical value. The door made a 'ding' sound as a man with a basket of fruit stepped in, looking rugged in plaid and jeans. I could sense his immediate dislike as he laid eyes upon me, setting the fruit next to the woman's counter. "Thank you, Mr. Kent," said the old woman, the man nodding in response. He looked displeased when I took an interest, the woman getting out her purse to pay as I approached.

"Mr. Kent? Are you related to Clark Kent?" My curiosity got the better of me, and I wanted to know why he looked like I should have been incinerated on the spot.

"What business of it is yours?" he nearly hissed, anxious to get out of the small shop.

"I'm Lex Luthor. Your son saved my life yesterday." I extended my hand, but he just looked at it, turning down the handshake as my hand retreated to my coat pocket.

"What are the Luthors doing in Smallville? Seems like bad luck anytime the name Luthor's heard, especially in a small town like this." His tone was coated with disdain, the corner of his lip pulled downward into a frown.

"I was going to investigate the Luthorcorp plant here before I had a car accident. Your boy pulled me out of the car and gave me CPR. I got released from the hospital today, so I decided to do a little sight-seeing." My tone was calm and pleasant, even though Mr. Kent's displeasure was growing exponentially as each minute passed.

"The people here didn't want that plant to be built, but your father illegally gained some land contracts by intimidating the owners of a few farms out west. Those farmers happened to be some of my best friends, so excuse me if I'm not dripping with excitement about another Luthor coming to destroy more lives." His hand was clenched into a fist, his knuckles turning white.

"I had nothing to do with the plant until yesterday, Mr. Kent, and I certainly have no influence over my father's actions. As you can see, I'm not my father. I have no intention of doing anything harmful during my stay here." Despite the accusations, I remained calm, being quite used to them over the years. People mistook my fashion style for corporate coldness, considering I didn't dress provocatively. I had on a button-up shirt that was conservatively buttoned paired with some khakis and a black trench coat. Mr. Kent finally got his money, heading out of the store. I followed him to his red pick-up, the windows being rolled down and allowing me to speak with him. "Mr. Kent, please don't judge me by my father's actions. It's something I have to deal with every day of my life, and I'd like a little peace every now and then." Mr. Kent said nothing and gunned the truck into drive, leaving tire marks where he peeled out and took off. Heaving a small sigh, I rolled my eyes as my brand new cell phone rang, drawing it from my pocket and flipping it open to my ear. "Lex Luthor."

"Lex, I found some beautiful property on the edge of Smallville. I've already bought it, so you can't change your mind. Your things are being moved in as we speak."

"You aren't trying to get rid of me in Metropolis, are you, Dad?"

"Far from it, darling. You'll appreciate it when you see it. There should be a limo coming to bring you here. This piece of real estate is a real beauty, Lex."

The black limo pulled up beside me, and, unsurprised, I got in, shutting the door and ignoring the looks I received from people on the sidewalk while doing so. "You couldn't send something a little more inconspicuous? Say, a camouflage-painted Jeep or a double-decker bus?"

"Oh, honey, just because these smalltown podunks aren't used to seeing a limousine doesn't mean you shouldn't ride in one. You can't sacrifice style for being adored."

"Tell me again why I've been sent to watch over this plant."

"You've got to start small. You have to prove yourself to me before you can work higher up with me and our corporate partners in Metropolis. If you do big things with this little plant, I'll know you're ready." Everything in my life was a test. I was almost getting tired of it.

"Well, you know what happened to Alexander the Great. He waited too long to let another rule and his palace sank into the sea with all his riches."

"Ah, yes, but Alexander's palace was cursed with mythological reverence. His palace held evidence of the cradle of life itself. I don't think Luthorcorp is up to those standards quite yet."

"I'm here, Dad."

"I'll be out front in a moment."

Flipping my phone closed, I got out of the limo, looking up at the castle my father picked out for me. Literally, it was a castle. Stained glass windows and everything. No doubt, it was beautiful, but I wasn't planning on staying in Nowhere, Kansas, for the rest of my life. My father came out to hug me, leading me inside. He went on about the historical importance of this building while I mostly ignored him, looking at the beautiful marble floor beneath my feet, my heels clicking with every step. This place was perfect. "Dad," I interrupted and smiled. "I'm sold. But couldn't I have managed the plant from Metropolis?" Several people went past us, carrying furniture and clothes. "Are they bringing all my things here?"

"You have to be available at all times, Lex. Yes, they're bringing everything from your penthouse in Metropolis." He smoothed back his hair, an action that annoyed me periodically. I'm sure he knew. He grew his hair out to mock my inability to grow mine, but he'd never said anything like that. Of course, he wouldn't. He was supposed to be a loving, compassionate father. At least, that's what the PR said.

For the first week in my new residence, I was busy going over my new responsibilities as plant manager, but I wasn't busy enough to forget what Clark Kent did for me. I sent him a nice truck, something he'd appreciate. Over the weekend, I decided to visit him and see what he was up to, taking one of my other Porsches and driving to the address one of my assistants found for me. He lived on a farm, the quaint little place even having a sign that said 'Kent Farm' hanging over the drive. My present was still sitting there with the bow on it and everything, making me perk my brow questioningly. Getting out of the car, I heard noise coming from the barn, going inside to find a red-headed woman leaning over a log. I didn't see the chainsaw in her hands until she turned, making me throw my hands up and back off. "Whoa! I come in peace!" I was scared she was going to cut my head off, so I couldn't help but laugh nervously and quip a little. Her mouth opened in a wide 'o' as she turned off the chainsaw, lifting her goggles to reveal a kind and caring face.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry! Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm Lex Luthor." I extended my hand out of courtesy and was glad that Mrs. Kent wasn't as cold as Mr. Kent, receiving a warm handshake.

"I'm Martha Kent." I saw Mr. Kent come walking from the corner of my eye, going to Martha and supportively grasping her shoulders. She gave me an apologetic look. "I believe you've already met Jonathan."

"Yes. We had a quite candid conversation about genetics." My sarcasm was veiled, but it was there. Jonathan gave me the eye again, his brown eyes glaring into my blue ones.

"I don't appreciate you storming in on my farm and scaring my wife," Jonathan almost growled, and the situation was tense until Clark appeared on the scene with his bright, innocent smile.

"Hey, Lex." The farm boy wasn't accustomed to shaking hands, but he did so with me again. I was used to the gesture instead of a hug or anything, especially among strangers.

"Hey, Clark. Good to see you again. Do you like the present? Take her out for a test drive yet?" I was particularly proud in my ability to choose cars, and that truck was specifically expensive and fast.

"I liked it, but..." He paused and shifted a guilty look over to his father before he looked down at the ground.

"He can't accept it," Jonathan interrupted, stepping forward.

"Why not? It was money well spent, unlike most of my investments. Your son saved my life, Mr. Kent. I intend to repay him in any way I can, including fiscally."

"We're not in the habit of having people buy vehicles for us or accepting gifts from a Luthor. Usually that means we have to repay them in some way. I don't want that debt on my shoulders."

"I don't know what you've got against my father, Mr. Kent, but you're not the only one who holds a grudge against him, and probably with good reasoning. My name is Lex, not Lionel, Luthor, in case you missed that the first time. Your son obviously wants to keep the truck, so let him have it."

"It's just the Luthor that counts," Jonathan snapped, tossing the truck's keys into my hands. "You're not my son's mother, and you have no say in how we parent him. Clark is fifteen years old--"

"And old enough to get his permit if he goes through driver's ed. Then he can get his license and have his own truck already, saving you and Mrs. Kent from digging into your banks just to get him a car that won't run half the time anyways. This farm isn't exactly the Hilton, so I know you don't have the money to refuse my offer."

"John, I think we should just accept it. She's right," Martha stepped in, but it was obvious that Jonathan wasn't having any of it by his posture. His hands were on his hips, and he looked like he wanted to hit me. I turned to Clark, who was looking from me to his parents. I threw him the keys, turning to walk out of the barn.

"If you're not going to keep it, I'm not taking it back. If you don't want it, you're going to have to sell it." I have to admit that I got some pleasure from the scowl on Jonathan's face. "Bye, Clark. Feel free to drop by my mansion anytime you're in the neighborhood."

"Stay off of our property. Next time, I'm calling the authorities, Miss Luthor," Jonathan warned me. I got into the car and left, displeased with how the visit went. All I wanted to do was thank Clark for giving me the gift of life, and I was complicating things. Over the next few days, I tried to unearth the reason Jonathan Kent hated my bloodline, only finding out what he told me in the first place -- Lionel had bought off some of Jonathan's friends for their property. He couldn't be resentful enough to hold a grudge for twelve years over just that, could he?

I decided that a hot shower might help clear my thoughts. I rarely look at myself in the mirror when I'm not wearing a wig, but I did that day. My auburn locks I used to have in childhood were now replaced with a completely hairless scalp, making me look like an alien. I undressed, the rest of me being completely hairless at well, but I was picking at some of my faults. I had the best body I could possibly have, but nothing could ever make up for the fact that I'm bald. I'm different from most women, but men can't see past it. At least, not the ones I've dated. I got into the shower, and washed myself, taking longer than I should've and basking in the heat. I remembered what it was like when I was nine, being bored out of my mind when my dad brought me on some business deal in Smallville. I wandered off into a cornfield nearby, faintly hearing someone ask me for help. I only saw him for a second, a teenager stripped down to his boxers with a red 'S' spray-painted on his chest, before the meteors hit. One came right by us, burying me in debris. I assume the boy died. From that day on, I was hairless and completely healthy all the time. I didn't get hangovers, I didn't throw up, I didn't have my asthma anymore, and I didn't have hair.


	2. Settling In

_**A/N: **Italics signify thought. I tried to have a little fun with Lex in this chapter, because we all know that she won't say everything she thinks._

I found him in the middle of a cornfield, stripped to his boxers with a red 'S' on his chest.

A lot of things happened in the past week. Jonathan Kent sullenly accepted my gift for Clark, a brand new truck, but he wouldn't let Clark drive it. Even though his father obviously didn't approve, Clark dropped by in the middle of the week. I told my security to let him in anytime he wanted, even if it was in the middle of the night. After all, he had saved my life. I was in my office when he walked in, his blue eyes looking around the room, obviously impressed by the historical artifacts.

"I make it a point to collect items of historical value. It's one of my hobbies," I offered, and he looked at me with a small, almost sheepish smile. "What can I do for you, Clark?"

He sat down across from my desk, dressed in the red jacket and a blue shirt with jeans. At least he wasn't wearing flannel. Little did I know that I would have to suffer flannel eventually, as it was a constant part of his daily attire when he wasn't going out. "I just dropped by to ask for your advice."

He got my interest, making me raise an eyebrow. My hair was currently up in a ponytail, even though it wasn't exactly my hair. Technicalities and all that. "What kind of advice?" When he didn't answer and his cheeks flushed, I grinned, standing up and then sitting next to him. "Girl advice? You don't have to be embarrassed, Clark. I would gladly help you out with the rest of the female population to repay my debt." He looked glad for my straightforwardness, something I was already sure he didn't possess too much of himself. The whole farm boy thing definitely wasn't an act, and it was a welcome change from the men I was used to hanging around.

"Okay. There's this girl...," he started out uncertainly, moving his hands as he stopped, like he was trying to think of a way to get it all out.

"It's okay, Clark. I'm not going to make fun of you or anything. What's this girl's name?" _And social security number_, I added to myself. I might have to kill her someday for attracting such attention from Clark. The boy was so flustered that it only increased his cuteness factor, which was definitely not helping me. _I'm **not **conducting myself like this in front of him. Not like a school girl with a crush. I'm twenty-one years old. I should act like it and stop finding reasons to like the fifteen-year-old farm boy sitting next to me._

"Her name's Lana," he admitted, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"What's her status in the high school popularity contest?" It had to be someone high-ranking. Someone a farm boy could never touch.

"She's a cheerleader. She has a boyfriend who's a quarterback on the football team." _Ahh, that explains everything. _He continued nervously, playing with his hands as his blue eyes intently focused on the floor.

"Are you friends? Have you ever spoken to her?" _Is there any reason for me to make her life a living hell? Come on, all I need is one._

"Kind of. Her boyfriend, Whitney, makes fun of me a lot, and she defends me sometimes."

_Whitney's **such **a girl name. I guess he has to do something to feel masculine with a name like that. _"She has to feel something for you if she defends you. Maybe not as much as you feel for her, but there just might be more to her than everyone thinks. She might not just be an airhead cheerleader." _Though she probably is._

"Well, the thing is...every time I'm around her, I feel like I can't breathe. I just freeze."

"And you end up feeling like a complete dork for it?"

He nodded and gave a short laugh. "Yeah. I can't help it. It happens every time she's around."

"Clark, I think every teenage guy has to go through what you're going through. Your problem is that you put her on a pedestal, but she's only human, and she's not perfect. She may not have the same problems that you do, but she has her own problems. She just needs someone to listen. If you catch her at a bad time, confront her and talk to her. Ask her what's wrong. Listen. It's probably more than the quarterback is doing for her. All girls ever want is for someone to hear them and be there for them when they go through rough times." _Maybe I should write a self-help book. I'm pretty good at this._

He took a few seconds to process it, but it seemed like the advice worked for him, as he gave me a goofy grin before he asked his next question. "Is the same true for you, Lex? You don't seem like the type of girl who wants any help."

I gave him a secretive smile. He wasn't bad, but he didn't have me figured out just yet. "Of course it's true. If I didn't want to be heard, I wouldn't be in business. It may not seem like it, but I'm not the ice queen everyone thinks I am. I wanted your friendship, and I've given you advice. I just hope you'll be able to do the same for me someday. Though, not about girls. I don't think I have quite that many problems just yet." At that exact moment, my father chose to waltz into the room, always getting in even though I told security that they were supposed to at least warn me before he made an appearance. "But I do have my share." I gave my father a fake smile, and he returned it with one of his own, kissing me on the forehead. "Hi, Dad."

"Hello, Lex. I heard from your security that they're not supposed to let me in. Is there a problem I don't know about?"

"Nothing I want to discuss right now." His eyes fell on Clark, looking somewhat disappointed.

"They didn't tell me you had company."

"I didn't think they'd have to. Your eyes do still work, yes?" I was being a smartass and I knew it, but I always pressed my luck with Lionel. It was a constant game between us, both of us trying to come out on top. "Clark and I were having a conversation."

"Ah, but not anymore. My ears still work, Lex." It was a challenge. His eyes questioned me as to what I was doing with Clark Kent in my mansion like I was caught in bed with him or something. My eyes simply glared back in proud innocence.

"That's because we were interrupted. I didn't invite you here; please leave." That was as nice as it was going to get between me and my father. His company was unwanted, and I was making my desires known that I'd rather be talking to Clark than to Lionel.

"Not before we have a chance to discuss why I'm here."

"I was just leaving," stuttered Clark, getting up with surprising grace for a six-foot-something teenager.

"See you later, Clark," I said quietly, trying to leave the anger out of my voice. After all, it wasn't him I was angered by. Lionel extended his hand to Clark for a handshake, and Clark's eyes shifted to me before he simply turned around and left the way he came. I had to hide a smile at Clark's silent defiance.

"I suppose they don't teach manners on farms anymore," mumbled Lionel, taking advantage of where I was currently sitting and taking a seat behind my desk, in the position of power.

"His father hates you. It must be a genetic thing." I pounced on the advantage to express Mr. Kent's opinion of him, also trying to squeeze the reason for that opinion out of him.

"Jonathan Kent? He's a mess; he has to blame someone. That farm of his is falling apart. Soon, he won't even be able to afford that." Lionel was craftier than that, and I didn't believe that Mr. Kent played games. He hated my father, and there had to be a solid reason for it. A lot of people have solid reasons to detest my father. It's just a matter of dissecting which horrible act he committed to harm them.

"Why are you here? Certainly not to promote your innocence more. You save that kind of thing for television." Last time, he was on CNN protesting claims of experimental testing on human beings, blaming the stories on the paranoia of particularly imaginative people.

Lionel picked up my paperweight and examined it, a replica of a meteorite from Smallville's infamous meteor shower. It wasn't an actual meteor rock, though I did have a couple of them in my safe for experimental purposes.

I cocked my head to the side, furrowing my brow a bit. "You've never been one to dance around a subject. Don't start now."

"There's a gala being held by Luthorcorp Saturday night in Metropolis. I'd like you to meet some of our business partners."

"What's the catch? Besides having to wear a dress, of course." I'm not a tomboy, but heels are downright uncomfortable and some of the dresses my father picks out for me are outright skimpy.

He gave a sigh, scratching his forehead lightly. "I'd like you to act presentable, Lex. I don't want you acting out. I don't want to play any of your games. These men would like to meet you and spend time talking with you about possible business offers."

I rolled my eyes. "Joy. Business. Exactly what I want to be talking about on a Saturday night."

"It's certainly better than what you used to do in Metropolis on a Saturday night. I'm glad you left that lifestyle behind. No Luthor should be drugged and drunk out of their mind, embarrassing themselves every single night." I could sense the resentment in his voice, though he made no effort to hide it.

"For the hundredth time, I'm sorry I damaged your good name trying to have fun and find a place in this world that wasn't by your side, trying to fit into your shoes." I wasn't really sorry. It was a tired apology because I was tired of him lecturing me, and he still did, even though I had quit clubbing long ago. Now he used it as the base example for every little thing that I did wrong.

"What are you doing with that Clark Kent boy?" he questioned as a change of subject, but this one wasn't pleasant either. He obviously believed that I was doing something more than what I was doing with him.

"Oh, nothing. He just comes over every night, and we dress up in leather with whips and--"

"I'm serious, Lex."

"I am too."

"Are you having relations with a minor?"

"That's all you care about, isn't it?" I was mad now, exasperated by his distrust. "Your reputation. If it gets out that I've been having relations with a minor, your reputation will be ruined. Luthorcorp will fall, because no one will trust the pedophile you're leaving the company to. Is that it, Dad?"

He didn't answer, which was as good enough as a real answer for me.

"No. We're just friends. He saved my life, and he was nice about it. He didn't demand money. He didn't demand a reward. He didn't save me for my status in the community. He looked at me like a human being, something that my own father can't even do."

He got up, patting me on the shoulder lightly. "The gala is at the main Luthorcorp building in the ballroom. Be there at eight. Don't fail me this time."

I hate going to parties alone. Especially those swarming with the leeches that my father seemed to attract. My idea was to ask Clark, not only to piss Lionel off because he was underage, but also because I would be ignoring Lionel's business partners the entire time. It was the perfect plan, and I even bought the farm boy a tuxedo, but I couldn't bring myself to ask him if he wanted to go until Saturday evening. I pulled up to the Kent Farm in a limousine, wearing my cream-colored ball gown, my neck decorated with a diamond chandelier necklace. I chose another up-do in terms of my hair, knowing that I was going to be uncomfortable in so many other ways, so I might as well have that comfort.

Thankfully, I was greeted by Martha and not Jonathan Kent at the front door, whose face lit up at the sight of me all dressed up. "Good evening, Miss Luthor! You look beautiful!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Kent. And just call me Lex." I couldn't help but smile, seeing as I hadn't had an older woman dote on me in a while.

"You can call me Martha, then. What's the occasion?" She was making muffins. I envied her for being able to do household things that I would never do myself. She was currently folding the muffin batter, which looked to be blueberry.

"A Luthorcorp gala. I was wondering if Clark might be able to go with me and make it a little less boring."

Her mouth was pulled downward into a frown, her smile fading.

"I bought him a tuxedo, if that's the problem," I offered, but she held her hands up, shaking her head.

"No, it's just...Clark never came home this morning. He was supposed to be checking out the football game, but it's already over by now." She looked worried.

"Maybe I should drop by the school. He might've gotten caught up in something." She nodded, agreeing with my reasoning. "I'll call you if I see him, Mrs. K--Martha."

"Thank you, Lex."

I turned to leave, but I couldn't resist one question that had been tickling my mind since I'd gotten there. "Was Mr. Kent serious about calling the police the next time he sees me on the property?"

"I wouldn't doubt it."

I looked slightly crestfallen. I had taken to Martha Kent quickly. Maybe because my own mother wasn't around.

"We'll just have to make sure he doesn't _see _you." She offered me a smile and a wink, and I decided that I liked Clark's mother immediately.

It was just my luck that the limo broke down with a flat tire in the middle of driving by a cornfield. Since I had come to Smallville, I had grown tired of staring at them, and now I was stuck looking at one while the idiot driver attempted to change the tire.

"Help."

It was faint at first, but it was enough to make me stop in my tracks.

"Help me."

Was I hallucinating? The last time I heard someone cry for help in a cornfield, the meteor shower hit. It was a traumatic event, one that the psychologist Lionel hired to analyze me assured me would come back to bite me in the ass.

"Lex."

It couldn't have been more than a whisper, but it was enough to convince me to pull up the hem of my dress and start walking along one of the rows of corn.

"Miss Luthor!" the driver called to me, obviously worried that we wouldn't get to the gala.

"Mr. Cooper, I suggest you concentrate on changing that tire," I called back, seeing a shadow that might've been a tall man a few feet away. Carefully approaching it, I tried to take in the sight before me, my lips parting in shock.

Clark Kent was tied to a post shaped like a cross, his black hair mussed, his blue eyes watery and red. The rope binding his wrists and ankles was cutting into his flesh, streams of blood dripping down from the already soaked ropes. Across his muscled chest (I couldn't help but notice) was a red 'S', and he was wearing nothing but his boxers and a necklace. In the middle of the gold chain, a green gem glowed mystically, making my look of shock turn to one of confusion. "Oh my god, Clark, are you alright?" I finally muttered, pulling at the ropes and loosening them so that his arms were free, unfortunately causing him to lean forward and straight into me. I managed to hold his weight, though a flash from the man who called to me for help directly before the meteor shower was disturbing me. He was tied in the same manner, and they had the same 'S' on their chest. "Clark, I need you to hold yourself up for a second so I can untie your ankles." He mumbled something I couldn't understand, but he also grabbed onto the horizontal piece of wood, relieving me of his weight. I crouched down, the dress being already lost because of the sweat-covered teenager leaning into it and the red spray-paint that made a slight stain, even though I wouldn't see that part until later. Pulling the rope around his ankles loose, I helped him step down from the post, though he was still putting most of his weight on me. He muttered something unintelligible again, and I pulled my face back to look at him. "What are you saying? Who did this to you?"

"The necklace," he whispered, and I looked at him quizzically before he clarified what he said. "Take it off."

I reached around his neck and undid the clasp, not bothering to redo it and just holding it in my palm. "Are you alright? Who did this?"

"Whitney," was all he managed before he turned away, trying to walk.

"No, no, Clark, we have to get you to a hospital. You can't go anywhere like this. Your mother's worried sick." I grabbed his arm with the hand not holding the necklace, surprised to feel how much muscle was really beneath his flesh.

"I have to go," he mumbled, breaking away from me. I lost my balance from a sudden burst of wind, falling backwards into a plant.

"Clark," I started, looking up, but he was gone. "Clark!" I tried calling out, but I didn't hear a response. I got up, wiping my dress off, but it was ruined at this point. It was one of my favorites, too. Oh well. _The only good type of dress is a destroyed dress anyway._

"Miss Luthor!" I heard my driver yell, looking down again to see if I dropped anything. A glint of green told me that the necklace was still there, so I picked it up out of curiosity, looking at it with mystified eyes. "The tire's fixed!" _Great. _Now I had to come up with another excuse for not going to the gala. Worse yet, Lionel would probably make me go despite what happened, and I'd be alone in a room full of sharks. I got back into the limo, trying to process what had just happened.


	3. Common Ground

_**Comments: **Narias, thank you **so **much for reviewing. I hope you like the chapter._

Five minutes after the Luthorcorp gala began, I was out on one of the balconies with a cigarette. For me, nothing was better than the company of my cigarette, and that included the forty or so men I'd just been introduced to inside. Unfortunately, I couldn't find my lighter in my decorative purse, realizing that I must've forgotten it in my other one. "Shit," I murmured, lips still on the cigarette in hopes of it lighting on its own. _Come on, I hear about objects spontaneously combusting all the time. What did I ever do to God?_

"Need a light?" For the moment, the owner of that voice was my savior. I heard a match being struck, the flame held to my cigarette as I inhaled the sweet taste of nicotine, the tip burning red. Taking the cigarette from my lips to rest between my index and middle fingers, I held the smoke in my mouth as long as I could before letting it stream out.

"Thank you," I emphasized, turning to face the man standing next to me. I vaguely recognized him as one of the forty men my father introduced me to, but I couldn't grasp a name. _Billings? Brooks? _"I'm sorry, I forgot your name, Mr...?"

"Bridges." _I knew it started with a B. _"But you can call me Jeff, Miss Luthor."

I smiled and shook my head, taking another puff from my cigarette. "Lex, please."

"Lex," he corrected himself, flashing me a smile with perfect white teeth. He wasn't bad-looking at all, but I knew that most good-looking guys were jerks. "I don't blame you for not remembering my name. Your father seems to be a zealot when it comes to making sure all his business partners know who his daughter is."

"My father's a zealot when it comes to a lot of things, Jeff." Another drag from the cigarette.

"I've noticed. He really doesn't need to show you off, you know. You do that well enough yourself." I wasn't surprised by the compliment, knowing that there had to be scores of wolves after my inheritance that used honey more than vinegar.

I had stopped home to change dresses, the former one being covered in male sweat, spray-paint, and dirt. Rescuing Clark Kent from a field definitely had to be one of the weirder experiences in my life, but it wasn't something that I was against. He saved my life, after all, and I owed him one. I just wished he would've told me the whole story. I was currently wearing the necklace I found on him, a pretty emerald-colored gem on a gold chain, mostly because it matched my dress. It was a darker green, strapless and highlighting my cleavage before clinging to my waist and then puffing out a small amount, the bottom having a silky texture. It was one of those gowns that princesses wore, which was the only reason I somewhat enjoyed it. I had gold-lined emerald earrings to match along with a gold bracelet, even gold shoes with a strip of emerald across the area just before my toes. Jeff was obviously appreciating the view, reaching forward to touch my necklace and swiping the flesh of my chest softly, purposefully.

"This is an interesting necklace. Is it emerald?" He was suddenly two inches from me, his face close to mine, and I noticed that his eyes were the same color as the necklace.

"Uh, I don't know. I'm borrowing it from a friend." It took a lot to make me uncomfortable most of the time, but I was uncomfortable then. His eyes were intensely looking into mine, like he was getting ready to kiss me. I attempted to back off, dropping the cigarette over the balcony as my back pressed into the marble railing, but he followed me there, getting dangerously close to me. "Jeff," I snapped, making sure he heard the resistance and strength of command in my voice. One thing I've learned over the years is that in these situations, you can't afford the luxury of sounding weak. It worked. Jeff suddenly backed off, sensing my dislike. The thought of what had just transpired sent shivers down my spine, giving me small goose bumps.

"Do you want to go back inside?" he suggested, as if nothing happened. "I'll save you from the rest of the sharks in suits."

I simply nodded, not knowing what else to do. There was no way I wanted to work up his temper so that he became volatile, especially when we were alone like this. He took my hand, leading me back inside and then going to get us champagne. I plastered a small, fake smile on my face when he came back, taking the champagne and drinking all of it at once. _No more alcohol after this, even if it's only champagne. _I didn't want to be weakened in any way just in case Jeff wasn't clear about where we were going.

We danced to a few songs, and I relaxed some. He seemed like a normal, funny guy, but the incident on the balcony was still in the back of my mind. They say murderers seem completely normal and nice until they kill half the neighborhood. I was vaguely surprised that Lionel didn't check up on me all night, considering how excited he'd been for me to meet his business partners and spend time with them. I realized that Jeff must have been the one he really wanted me to meet, unless it was all coincidence. I don't believe in coincidence, but it sounded a little paranoid to assume my father had set all of this up.

I don't remember why I accepted a second glass of champagne, but I knew the second I drank it that it was a mistake. Letting my guard down always was. I started to feel immediately drowsy and nauseous, having to lean on Jeff. "I don't feel well," I muttered, my eyes drooping as he picked me up, taking a side door out of the party. _Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea..._Thoughts sluggishly ran through my mind, trying to think of what was going on, why it was happening, and what I could do about it at the same time. It wasn't working.

"Don't worry, Lex." I could barely even move anymore, let alone struggle, as he put me in the back of his car. "I'll take care of you."

_What is this? Date rape? That's so nineties. Bastard._

He was suddenly on me, his lips on mine as his body held mine down. It wasn't hard. I couldn't move well, but I tried, only batting his hand away like we were playing a childish game before he held my hand down. _Shit. _I was starting to panic.

"Get _off _me." I don't even know if the words came out right. My body wasn't right, and I couldn't do anything about what was happening to me. It was a control freak's worst nightmare. I was definitely in trouble.

"Your father said you were going to resist." Dad was involved in this? "Too bad I like 'em feisty."

When he started working my dress up, panic mode fully set in, and I started squirming, being able to do little else. It took all my energy to let out one scream, one he obviously wasn't expecting to hear as he jumped up and tried to cover my mouth. I looked up to the window at the same time Clark Kent's eyes looked down into the limo, my eyes widening at the coincidence. "Clark!" I shouted before Jeff smacked me hard, leaving me out cold. I could've sworn I heard the sound of metal tearing before I passed out.

I woke up on a couch covered with a blanket. Squinting my eyes, I saw that the ceiling was made from wood, perking a brow. This was not my house. I sat up, looking down to see I was still wearing the green dress, frowning immediately. _What happened? _I looked further, at the blanket, seeing it was a flannel pattern, bringing a smile to my face. _Oh yeah. I have my own personal savior. _The question was, how did he do it? Maybe Jeff didn't lock the doors. How did he even know where I was? The questions were put on hold for a moment as I examined my surroundings, finding myself inside the Kent Barn. Several books were on a small coffee table, most of them having to do with school. I got up, looking at a sort of window without the glass, in front of which there was a telescope. Even though it was daytime, I looked into it, seeing a house. _Why would he have this pointed at a...oh. That must be Lana's house. _Sure enough, I saw a teenaged girl with long, black hair come out to greet a blonde boy in a letterman jacket, a smile on her face. _Fake. She doesn't even like her boyfriend._

"Uh," came Clark's voice as he caught me looking through the telescope. "I wasn't spying on her."

I straightened myself and gave him a smile, the blanket still wrapped around my shoulders. It was breezy by the 'window'. "Clark. I didn't hear you come up."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm quiet. I thought you were sleeping."

"I was. But then I woke up and found myself wondering what I'm doing in a barn."

"That guy you were with...," he started out uneasily, though he was slowly coming toward the window.

"Jeff Bridges," I clarified for him, looking at the floor. "He was a business associate of my father's."

"What was he doing?" His voice had grown softer, and I couldn't help but admire his tact.

"He was trying to rape me. How did you know where I was?" I was dying to ask questions about the cornfield.

"My mom. She said you dropped by to..."

"...to ask you to come with me to the gala," I finished, already having a handle on how shy he was about girl stuff. "How did you find it?"

"I asked around. The Luthorcorp building wasn't too hard to find. The giant logo on the building kind of gives it away."

Something suddenly puzzled me. "How'd you get there?"

He suddenly looked uncomfortable. It was the slightest change in his posture, but I caught it. "I got my friend Pete to drive me."

"How'd you even get into Jeff's car?"

"It was unlocked."

"Really?" I found it hard to believe, but maybe Jeff had been concentrating more on me and less on his car.

"Really. I tried to convince my dad to let you stay in my room instead of the barn, but he wouldn't have it."

"Of course not. I'm a Luthor, after all. I'm surprised he let me stay here."

"I told him what happened. He was kind of lenient after that."

I scoffed. "Of course."

"Do you want some clothes to change into? I don't have anything fancy, but it's something."

"Will your dad let me in the house for a shower?"

He gave me a grin. "What? The hose isn't good enough for you?"

I smiled, giving him a light push. "Come on, Clark. Please?"

"I'll ask."

After five minutes of coaxing, I got my shower, changing into Clark's blue t-shirt and a pair of his jeans. The legs were too long, even though I was tall for a woman, and the pants looked ridiculous with my heels, so I went barefoot. Emerging from the bathroom, I found Clark waiting for me, and I could tell he was amused by my appearance.

"You look--"

"Shut up," I interrupted, though I said it with a smile. They seemed to be infectious around him.

"Dad sent me to escort you out of the house and back into the barn. He has some things to do around the farm before he can drive you home."

We went back into the barn, even though I found the rule to be stubborn and pigheaded. He had to carry me until we got to the stairs, the rest of the floor being covered with hay that could pierce my foot. He was stronger than he looked, not even straining the slightest bit under my weight. My curiosity could no longer take the wait. "What happened to you last night? In the cornfield?"

He hesitated, waiting for us both to sit on the couch before he started his explanation. "I went to the football field to see if Lana was there. Whitney and his friends grabbed me, threw me in his truck, and tied me up out in the cornfield."

"Other than practicing archaic Roman rituals, what were they doing tying you up in a cornfield?"

"Every year for the homecoming game, the football team finds a dorky guy to string up in the field and be that year's scarecrow. In my case, Whitney just happened to notice that I've been hanging around Lana a lot lately, so he decided to get his revenge."

"That's so immature. You'd think that guys would start to grow up after fifteen years of living. Of course, when they're still immature at my age, there really is no hope, is there?"

"I'm a guy. Am I immature?" He looked somewhat offended. It made me smile.

"Maybe a little. Socially. But you're years past your age when it comes to responsibility and kindness."

"I've been dying to ask you...," he started, and I didn't know what to expect. "How do you get your hair to stay like that? Is that some kind of girl trick?"

My smile faded. I knew it would come to this eventually, but that didn't mean that I wanted to weaken myself further in his eyes. After the crap he got me out of last night, I was already insecure, but he deserved an explanation, especially after he told me the truth about the scarecrow thing. "No. It's not a trick. When I was nine, my father brought me along on a business trip to Smallville. It just happened to be right when the meteor shower hit, and I lost my hair. I was thinking about coming out about it eventually, but Dad doesn't think it's a good idea."

To his credit, Clark's expression didn't change for the negative. Rather, he smiled warmly at me, his eyes not hiding any deception behind them. "That's a good wig. It looks like real hair."

"Thanks. I have a lot of them so that I can wear different styles, but sometimes it feels like it'd be easier to go without."

"So why don't you?"

"I told you, Clark, my father thinks--"

"I've only known you for a week, Lex, but I already know that you don't care what your father thinks."

"The media wouldn't be kind to me, Clark. People would start treating me differently. I got tired of that when I was a teenager. They looked at me like I was a freak."

"You're not a freak."

"Other people aren't as kind to me as you are. In my world, you can't let your guard down. Once they find your weakness, it's over."

Clark looked like he knew exactly what I meant by that.


	4. The Investigation

**Author's Note: **I wanted to make up for my last chapter, which was a bit shorter than usual, so I took my time with this one.

**Chapter 4: The Investigation**

"What do you mean I can't go back to Metropolis?" I asked into the phone, anger coating my tone. I'd been calling my father all day trying to decide whether I should throw a fit or simply ask to return to my place in Metropolis. The Smallville plant was doing fairly well, but I felt uncomfortable. It wasn't the management position, but rather the town. Half of the town hated me because of my father and the other half hated me because I was in big business. The only person who didn't hate me was getting way entirely too close to me for comfort, and I needed to distance myself before it turned into a serious problem. My unoccupied hand was fingering the gold chain of Lana Lang's necklace on my desk, the green stone in the midst of it catching my eye more than a few times.

When I found Clark in the cornfield, I could swear that the stone had been glowing. Why would I be able to see it in the darkness if it hadn't been glowing? Questions like these were driving me insane. My car was returned to me after the crash, and that only spurred more questions. The hours-long wait on the phone for my father to get out of a meeting only further pissed me off, especially considering what Lionel had done. He sent that rat, Jeff Bridges, after me. I wasn't sure yet if Lionel was in on his plan to drug me and rape me in the back seat of his Mercedes. I've been in that situation before, but usually it was of my own volition that I had relations with someone in the back of their car. Maybe Dad thought I wouldn't mind the little drug cocktail Jeff took it upon himself to add to my champagne.

I didn't go to a hospital, but I did consult a doctor of my own, someone who wouldn't put anything on record if I paid him enough. There were traces of GHB and Rohypnol in my system, confirming the date rape premise of our little encounter. He would've gotten away with it if it weren't for Clark. I couldn't believe the speed he learned everything he did, and he actual had time to stop it before it happened. We were only at the gala for an hour, and the gala started half an hour after I found him in a cornfield, tied up, and incredibly weakened. I'd been racking my brain for explanations and also trying to disprove my own theories.

"I mean that Smallville is your test, Lex," my father answered with clear exasperation in his voice, as if he were the one forced to wait for hours to talk to me. "You've always been a positive candidate for upper management, but I need to know that you really possess the hunger that Luthorcorp requires of you. When you're the CEO of a company, it becomes your life. I don't want you to be stuck doing something that you're not equipped to handle."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad. You've seen me in meetings. You know I have the stuff to take over your company. You just don't want to step down." I was challenging him again, but I needed to get out of Smallville to regain some semblance of normalcy in my life. I couldn't be caught dwelling on the odd events in my life, which seemed to increase dramatically since I drove into this town. "You said yourself that this was a podunk town full of hicks. How much progress am I supposed to make with something like that?"

"I'll step down when I'm ready, Lex. You'll have your reign. I just have to make sure you're ready for it. I want you to prove your worth. Smallville may be small, but it's your job to turn it into something big. Make me proud, darling. You have your father's stubbornness in you. Don't let anything get in your way." I heard the dial tone, and I wasn't surprised. He rarely, if ever, said goodbye. He once told me that goodbyes are a waste of words, that if you were really ready to part from someone else, you wouldn't need such an insignificant word to express it. Lionel looked for everything simple and affectionate about life, took it behind the shed, and shot it in the back of the head. It was the same way my whole life. I looked at other families with envy because they had something we didn't: love. Lionel might have loved me like a daughter once, but whatever love he had for me was transformed into determination to push me harder than any father should push his child. The lack of love made me guarded, and I couldn't say that I wasn't better for it.

It wouldn't serve me to be as naive as someone like Clark, after all. He was growing on me. This town was _not _good for me. I needed the city life. I needed the cold, harsh repertoire of business meetings, not another soft smile from an increasingly mysterious farm boy. Why did he have to have that one quality that always drew me in? Ever since the mystery of my particularly good health remained unsolved, every other mystery had to be unwound, and that method worked until now. More mysteries. More challenges. I sighed, grabbing Lana's necklace off of my desk. I would go to see her and return the necklace later, which was why I knew her full name, social security number, background, address, and hangouts. Unfortunately, she had no criminal record.

I exited my office, putting my hands into the pockets of my black, butter soft leather jacket. I was also wearing a cream-colored top and black, dressy pants. Even though I felt the desire to walk barefoot, the marble tile was extremely chilled to my feet, so I wore black, sequined ballet slipper-style flats. Heading to the east wing, I tapped part of the wall, a console sliding out. I pressed my thumb to it while it scanned the print, the wall opening to reveal a set of spiraling stairs. As I went down, I heard the door slide shut behind me, dim lights coming on above me with every step I took. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, the entire lab area lit up, not terribly bright like most labs, but with enough light to see. Taking my new cell phone from my pocket, I opened it and searched through my address book, finding the number I was looking for and pressing 'send', the phone automatically dialing it for me. It rang twice before a man's voice spoke.

"Hello?" He didn't sound nervous. Quite the contrary. He sounded calm, even though he was probably at home with his wife and two kids.

"Hello, Mr. Reddick. What are your findings? I know you're with your family, which is why you weren't escorted here five minutes ago."

"Are you in the lab?"

"Yes."

"Good. Go to the console." I went to the computer, turning the monitor on to see a digitally created bridge above water. "Press play." When I did, I saw my car coming from the left side, a red man standing at the bridge. When my digital car swerved, it ran straight into him, the man falling into the water.

"Enlighten me, Mr. Reddick. What the hell is this? I asked for an exact recreation of the scene."

"That is an exact recreation of the scene. I've conferred with four other specialists, and they agree. It may seem impossible, Miss Luthor, but it's the only possible explanation for how the tire marks were skewed. This isn't the only strange part. Step over to the right."

I did, looking at my now-destroyed Porsche. Most of it was crushed, the ripples caused being far too close together for it to be hit by just a bridge. "I thought my car crashed _through _the bridge. It looks like the bridge stopped the car."

"Exactly. My research reveals that at the speed you were going, that kind of impact was impossible...with the bridge. And if you look at your front bumper, you'll see that there's a dent." I stepped to the front of the crushed car, unable to believe my eyes. He was right. I stepped into the dent with a shocking realization. "This may sound crazy, but it's the right size for--"

"For a human," I interrupted, running my hand over the ruined hood of my car. "This is unbelievable."

"I know it sounds impossible, Miss Luthor, but I've never seen an impact like that from a bridge."

"He said I didn't hit him."

"The evidence suggests that not only did you hit him, but he posed a great resistance to your car as well. Most humans barely create a dent on the hood if they're hit, but this looks like your car was wrapped around a tree instead of hitting a bridge."

"That's impossible. He would have to be some kind of--"

"Freak? Yes, well, I've been looking into Smallville's history, and it seems like there have been a number of incidents like this over the past twelve years."

"Since the meteor shower?" I asked skeptically, but I ran a hand over my wig as a reminder of what the meteor shower had done to me. It also mysteriously cured my asthma.

"Yes. The rocks from the meteor seem to have supernatural effects on the things around them. Considering Smallville was the site of the meteor shower, these rocks are everywhere, and people who have been exposed to them exhibit strange behavior. There has been testing on plants as well, but the experiments have been discontinued. Most of these were initiated but then abandoned by Luthorcorp. Your father's company has been deeply involved in this matter for years, Miss Luthor. I suggest you tread lightly and not mention anything to your father or any other civilians."

"Reddick, is it possible for our team to recreate those experiments? Even possibly expand on them?"

"It's possible, but we would have to work in absolute secrecy. I suggest an abandoned building."

"We could use Cadmus Labs. My father isn't doing anything with that place. It's basically been forgotten about for the past ten years. Has the meteor rock changed in any way when it affects its hosts? Appearance, size, color?"

"It glows. We could also test the temperature."

I was somewhat frozen in my tracks. The necklace. I examined it. "What color are ordinary meteor rocks?"

"The crystals are usually green."

"Could you test a gem for me to see if it was possibly made out of meteor rock?"

"Of course, Miss Luthor. Just leave it in the lab and I'll come by tonight."

"Thank you, Mr. Reddick."

"Miss Luthor? What about the boy you hit with your car?"

"What about him?"

"Would you like us to...acquire and test him?"

"No."

"Miss Luthor?"

"I don't want him touched. Is that clear?"

"Crystal."

As I flipped my phone closed and put it back in my pocket, I was trying to fit my mind around the whole investigation, my blue-grey eyes sliding from the car to the accident recreation scene. I racked through possibilities until I found one that seemingly fit. If Lana's necklace was indeed made of meteor rock, it could have affected Clark. The only problem was the consistency. I hit Clark a week before I found him in the cornfield, but the necklace was glowing around his neck anyway. It affected him in some way, but it didn't explain his resiliency to my car.

That night, Reddick joined me in the lab, which I hadn't left. The couch was comfortable and it was a place for me to be alone with my thoughts, which were many. I even allowed myself the girlish thought of wondering why Clark went to find me in the first place the night of the gala. He didn't know I was in trouble or anything until he actually got there. He was going to join me. He had to be. There was no other explanation for it. This was exactly why I wanted to go back to Metropolis. There was no way I should be thinking about a fifteen-year-old boy this much. Why was I thrilled by the idea that he might have replaced Jeff that night? It certainly would've been more pleasant, dancing with Clark. All of that was forgotten once Reddick stepped into the lab with a few of his protégés.

"Good evening, gentlemen." I greeted each of them, shaking their hands before they went to work. Two were analyzing the gem in Lana's necklace while one was at the computer, the other looking at the car. The last one called me over, pointing out the top of the car.

"See how it's completely separated from the side and the windshield? The crash couldn't have done that. The way it's bent, it's like someone tore it." He motioned peeling it back with his hands, and I imagined the effects being exactly what the top of my car looked like. "And it wasn't torn past a certain point. It was just enough to retrieve someone from the driver's seat."

"So what, this boy's some sort of Hercules?"

"No normal human has this kind of strength. There have been unproven incidents where a child supposedly gains superhuman strength to save a dying parent, but you've had no former connection to this boy, right?"

"Right. That was how I met him."

"Well, look at the seatbelt. It wasn't undone; it was detached from the actual car. It's still buckled."

Too much coincidence. This was way too weird to be something normal. "Reddick," I called.

"Yes, Miss Luthor?"

"Have you made progress on the necklace?"

"We have. It's made out of pure meteor rock." Obviously seeing that I didn't know the difference, he launched into an explanation. "When most meteor rocks are initially found, they're green crystals like this set in black stone. In order to obtain a pure sample, it must be carefully removed from the stone."

"Can you melt the crystals?"

"I don't know. That would be something we could test."

"Does your team do surveillance, Reddick?"

"No, but I know someone who can."

"Are they good?" I didn't want anyone to screw this up.

"Very."

"Tell them I want the Kents to be watched. I don't want them to act on anything unless it promotes their well-being. It's a protective measure, but if they find anything out of place, I want to know about it."

"Yes, Miss Luthor."

"I also want more samples of these meteor rocks. I want to know everything about them, including what they've done to people since the meteor shower. Find out what deactivates it as well, if anything." My scientific mind was on the loose, and I couldn't help but be overjoyed by the prospects of these rocks. Maybe if they could have different effects on people, they could be used to help people. My surveillance on the Kents was simply insurance. I was naturally paranoid, being a Luthor, and the evidence that something strange was going on was overwhelming. I had to act on it.

The next day, I was pulling up in Lana Lang's driveway with my new Porsche, consolation for losing my old one. I was dressed more casually in a lavender, spaghetti-strapped shirt and jeans, liking the feel of Clark's jeans when I wore them. Speaking of which, I still had to return them along with his shirt. Were they still at the dry cleaner's? I was suddenly pulled out of my thoughts when I reached the front door, knocking on the door. An older woman, who I recognized as Lana's aunt from her history, greeted me, shaking my hand.

"How can I help you, Miss Luthor?" she asked somewhat kindly, though she didn't radiate as much warmth as Martha Kent did.

"I'm actually here to speak with Lana. Is she home?"

"No, she's at the stables."

"It's important that I speak with her."

Five minutes later, I arrived at the Smallville Stables, realizing just how small the town was. You could go from one side of the town to the other in ten minutes. I found her bringing in her horse by the reigns, leaning against the doorway of the stables as she led the horse into one of them. "Miss Lang," I called, announcing my presence as she locked up the stable. She looked mildly surprised, her delicate features being quite pretty. No wonder Clark was enraptured with her. If there was anything I knew how to do, though, it was compete.

"Miss Luthor. Nice to meet you." She reached a hand forward first this time, comforting me in the fact that I wasn't the only world who used handshakes as a greeting anymore.

"I could say the same."

"What did I do to warrant a visit from Lex Luthor?" At least she didn't avoid subjects like Clark did.

"Oh." I feigned forgetfulness, bringing her necklace from my pocket. She reached forward, her lips parted slightly in shock.

"My necklace, how did you--"

"I found it around Clark Kent's neck when he was tied to a post in the middle of a cornfield. It was obviously not his day."

"But I let my boyfriend borrow my necklace. How did Clark end up with it?" She wasn't dense, I was sure. _Now _she was avoiding the subject. What was it with all these naive farm people?

"That might be a good question for your boyfriend the next time you see him. Another good question is how did Clark end up in that field?"

She said nothing, and I could see her trying to run scenarios.

"If your boyfriend lays a hand on him again," I warned, letting her meet my gaze to know I was serious, "he will have a series of unfortunate accidents that lead to him realizing the miserable human being that he is. You and I both know Clark didn't deserve that kind of treatment."

"Is that a threat?" So the cheerleader had some balls.

I just smiled at her, turning my back to go back to my car. "No, Miss Lang. I don't make threats. I give warnings. Have a good day."


	5. The Accused

**Comments: **Thank you for commenting, Jen. You flatter me too much.

**Chapter 5: The Accused**

At 12:30 in the afternoon, Lex Luthor supposedly robbed a bank.

Of course, I'm Lex Luthor. I couldn't rob a bank without knowing it, could I?

At 12:30, I was eating lunch. I had no idea some pseudo-me was walking into a bank and running my name through the mud. _Again. _

"Well, isn't this nice?" asked the man sitting across from me, a suave business partner of Lionel's. Too bad I already knew what a scumbag he was. His name, which I remembered this time, was Jeff Bridges. In my mind, the second biggest asshole in the world was trying to act like nothing happened.

"Nice isn't the word I was thinking of." I didn't waste time being polite. He brought me here for something, and I made it clear that I did not want to be here.

"I'm sure it was a gigantic synonym for uncomfortable."

I gave him a smirk. "You think _you _can make me uncomfortable, Mr. Bridges? Very few people can."

He smirked right back at me, and I wanted to wipe that arrogant, shit-eating grin off of his face. "I think I can and do. Any normal woman would be terrified to face me. You just masked your fear as stubbornness."

He just didn't get it. "Yeah. I really didn't want to take time from my busy schedule because I was shaking in my two-thousand dollar Prada boots. You got me."

"And now you're using sarcasm as a deterrent."

"What are you, my psychiatrist?" The statement was perfectly calm, mostly because I was irritated enough to make an impression on him. "Both of you are full of shit."

"Want some champagne, Lex?" He offered me the bottle, looking innocent like the bastard he was, and I shook my head.

"Sorry. Don't want to be date raped tonight. I've got a business reception. And it's Miss Luthor to you." Usually, it was the other way around. She wanted to be called Lex by her friends, but this guy wasn't even close. He was more like a creepy stalker that was added to her fan base.

"That's right. Two hundred fertilizer companies. Must be a big business deal." He poured himself champagne and took a long drink of it to mock my paranoia.

I wasn't about to take my chances with this guy. Not again. "That's really none of your business, considering you don't own any of them. Still in the underwear business?"

"At least I'm not playing with dirt," he snapped, and I smiled. His weak spot. What else would it be for a man who had the majority of his companies dealing in lingerie?

"What do you want, Jeff? You obviously brought me here for something other than a verbal spar."

It was his turn to smile. "I know it's killing you that your father may have been in on my involvement with you."

"Yeah, I'm dying to know." My response was purely sarcastic. There was no way I'd give him the satisfaction of knowing anything he didn't need to know.

"Come on, Lex."

"You want me to beg for information? I don't think so."

"Not beg. Just...request. Admit that you want to know."

"No. I couldn't care less whether or not he was in on it."

Then the bastard made a huge mistake. He reached across the table, his fingers barely swiping my cheek before my hand got to his. I stood up, slammed his hand on the table, and bent his fingers back, hearing at least one of them crack from being broken. His face was contorted in pain, an image that I saved in my memory so I could remember it later. "Jeff," I said to get his attention, as he was groaning at the pain I was causing him. He looked at me, his eyes pleading with me to let him go. "You already gave me all the information I needed when you mentioned Lionel's name in the car. Know this: you _never _got to me. So don't gloat like you've actually accomplished something in your pathetic personal life." By now, all eyes were on them, the restaurant frozen in shock. "If you press charges, I'll be doing the same for the night of the gala." I broke another finger, making him yelp in pain. "Have a nice day."

In my Mercedes, my hands were shaking on the wheel as I drove. I was angry. He made me lose control, so despite what I said, he did have an effect on me, but not the way he was thinking. I would easily win the court fight, saying it was self-defense, and I had Clark as an eyewitness to the night of the gala. I still had control. I had to take a few deep breaths, noticing that I was going over the speed limit, but I regained control eventually. I came home to a surprise, pulling up slowly in the drive when I saw the cop cars surrounding my house. A dozen men leaped out from nowhere, pointing their guns at me. "Freeze!" I heard, and I was puzzled, but I put my hands on the wheel, having been arrested enough to know what procedure was.

I was read my rights, handcuffed, and put in the back of a patrol car. The sheriff looked ecstatic. That meant I had to be in some big trouble. For what? Breaking Jeff's fingers? No. They wouldn't have so many cops here if it were just that.

"I thought you were smarter than to rob a bank in the middle of the day, Miss Luthor," the driver said, his voice containing genuine surprise.

My eyes widened, my lips parting in shock. "What? I did _not _rob a bank."

"I didn't believe it either, but they caught you on tape."

"I was just at lunch! I was in Metropolis."

"You'll have to talk with the sheriff. Seems like you've got an evil twin running around."

When I got to the station, the sheriff took the honor of escorting me inside, half the cops giving applause as he took me into the interrogation room. He motioned for me to sit, the classic mirror on the wall letting me know that half the station was probably in there watching, eating popcorn. "Can I get these handcuffs off, please?"

"I don't think that's a good idea, Miss Luthor."

"Why? I asked nicely. I've presented no threat to you or the officer who drove me here. All I've done is comply. I haven't even asked for my lawyer yet."

He sucked his teeth. "Yeah, 'bout that lawyer, we're gonna have to wait on that for a while. You see, with the robbery and all, we're backed up here, so your call might not get put in for a long time."

"Can I see the tape?"

"I have a guy reviewing it right now. We'll get it as soon as he's done." Great. Smallville's greatest law enforcement at work.

"So what's this about me robbing a bank?"

"I was hoping you could tell me first, Lex. I can call you Lex, right? That's what you say to all the people you pretend to be friendly with."

He was playing with fire, but if I unleashed any of it, I would surely get burned. "I didn't rob a bank. Why would I rob a bank?"

"I don't try to get in the minds of people like you, Lex. I just try to catch 'em. Walk me through your day today, please."

He was dead set against me. This was just fabulous. A town full of people who hate me, and half the police force too. "I was in a business meeting this morning from nine to twelve. Then I went over to the Top of the Sky to have lunch with a business partner of my father's. His name's Jeff Bridges. I was there at twelve-thirty in a restaurant full of people you can ask. I came home. I found Smallville's best and brightest parked on my lawn."

He leered at me. "I don't think you're telling the truth."

"Call Jeff Bridges. He has two broken fingers that are proof I was there, with him."

He shrugged his shoulders, going out of the room and locking it behind him. I stayed completely calm, neither looking relieved nor satisfied. People were still watching me, no doubt. I didn't get up to stretch, even though my shoulders were killing me from being pulled backward for so long.

The sheriff came back with a small smile on his face. It made me nervous.

"Mr. Bridges says he was nowhere near you today."

That bastard! He was mad about his fingers, but that didn't warrant enough to lie about something so important as an alibi, did it? He was vindictive. Damn. Now I had practically nothing. "Call the host at the Sky. I'm on the guestbook."

"I'm not gonna be calling anymore of your fake friends, Lex. As an officer of the law, I don't appreciate being lied to."

He smacked me so hard that I fell out of my chair. My lip was bleeding, and I could feel my mouth swelling already. This was not a smart thing to do. No one laid their hands on Lex Luthor without repercussions. No one. The consequences probably wouldn't be immediate, but he'd get his badge taken after I got out of here. "I didn't lie to you," I protested, but he only sent a kick straight into my kidney. Ow. The pressure was bad. But there was no way I could fight back. I was handcuffed, he had a weapon, and he was probably aching to use it.

"I said I don't appreciate lies, so you better start telling the truth." There was a knock at the door, and another officer poked his head on, offering the sheriff a tape. He took it and the door closed, shutting out my hope of getting out. I needed to do this legally. He picked me up, putting me back in the chair harshly and putting the tape into a VCR, turning on the TV it was hooked up to.

It showed me holding a gun to the bank owner's forehead, thrusting forward a red backpack and demanding money. Red backpack? Did these people think I was fashion deficient? He stopped it after I ran out, crossing his arms over his chest. "I want to see the start of the tape."

"We don't have the beginning. That's the part that matters anyways." Withholding evidence. There had to be something that could possibly prove it wasn't me.

"Are your people blind? Why would I carry around a red backpack?"

"I don't think your fashion sense is enough proof. Besides, we already have enough eyewitnesses." He tossed a list on the table, making me cock my head to look at where it crookedly fell.

The fifth name on the list made me look again. "Clark Kent?"

"Yeah. You pushed him through a store window."

"I didn't do this."

He crouched next to me so that we were eye-to-eye, close enough so I could smell the tobacco on his breath. "If you come clean about this now, we'll try to get the courts to go easy on you. If you keep lying to me, I might just let the boys have a little fun while you're locked in here."

I turned to him, glaring at him, my eyes looking steadily into his. "When I get out of here, I'll have your badge and this town will treat you like the rat you are."

He took out his nightstick, stood up, and hit me in the head. I nearly blacked out. "You're not in the position to threaten anyone."

"Sheriff Egan," came a deep voice from the door. It looked like a higher-up cop. "Your resignation will be expected on my desk tomorrow morning. Your career in law enforcement is over."

He looked dumbfounded as my lawyer stepped out from behind the other officer, leaning down to check up on me. "Are you alright, Miss Luthor?"

"I am now. Who called you?"

"Your father. He got news that you were taken in."

I was immediately released, even though most of the town still believed that I stole $100,000, which was petty cash to me. I decided to send a substitute for my business reception, which was about now, even though the companies would probably be disappointed. I needed some time to myself.

I didn't get it. When I got back to the mansion, Lionel was waiting for me with his angry face on. It was serious lecture time.

"Since when is it justified for you to rob a bank?"

"You and I both know I didn't rob that bank. Did you talk to Jeff Bridges today?" I had something to throw in his face. Maybe he'd leave me alone.

He kept his face blank. "Why would I talk to Jeff today?"

"Because he wanted to meet me at the Top of the Sky for lunch."

"I don't keep a personal schedule of where you'll be every day."

"No, but you did play matchmaker at the gala, didn't you?"

"What are you talking about now, Lex? Paranoia doesn't suit you."

"You told Jeff Bridges to come after me. Maybe not in the way that he did, but you said something to him that got him going."

His eyes gave away his preparation to admit what he'd actually done. "I just pointed him in your direction and suggested that you two talk. You seemed like a good match for him, and you've been single for years. You haven't exactly had the best reputation with men. You've never had a relationship longer than a week, have you?"

I didn't answer his question, simply glaring. "Do you know what happened at the gala?"

"No."

Somehow, I didn't believe him, but I told him anyway. "Jeff slipped me drugs in my champagne. He took me to his car and tried to rape me."

His face contorted into a mask of false sympathy. "Why didn't you tell me? I'm so sorry, Lex."

"Clark Kent saved me at the last minute."

"He seems like a hero around here."

"Jeff had lunch with me today, claiming that you were more involved in this than I believed. I broke two of his fingers, so when the cops called him for confirmation of my alibi, he told them he hadn't seen me."

"That was deceitful of him. You did break the man's fingers, though."

I smiled. "I know."

"Did you go to the hospital?" He tentatively touched my lip, and I hissed in pain.

"No. It's just a bump on the head and a swollen lip. If I have a concussion, it's only slight, so I should be okay as long as I stay awake."

"You ought to get those wounds checked out, dear."

"I'm fine, Dad."

"If you say so."

The next day, I was going to head to Clark's to talk to him about the incident when I saw someone standing next to my car. I recognized him as a journalist, the kind of company I didn't want to keep. "Can I help you?"

"Roger Nixon, _Metropolis Inquisitor_."

"I know who you are. What are you doing in my garage, trespassing on my property?"

"Your recent excavation brought something to my attention."

"My apparent penchant for red backpacks?"

"No. I got a hold of some of your criminal records, and I was thinking of writing a follow-up article that might explain your actions at the bank. Lex Luthor's criminal past, a wild teenager in Metropolis."

"You can't think of a better title? Those records are sealed, Mr. Nixon."

"I'm writing the article, Miss Luthor."

"I'll sue you."

"But I'll have my article, and a lawsuit could take years."

I gave him a fake smile. "I don't think you really want to write that article. I think you want a big, fat payoff."

"Funny. I think I do too."

"And what's to stop you from having an accident on the way to work tomorrow morning?"

"The original documents of your crimes being sent to the hands of my lawyer in the event of my death."

Damn. He was better than I first estimated. I didn't answer him.

"I'm sure you wouldn't want an event like Club Zero to get out."

I glared. "What's your price?"

"$100,000."

"I seem to be hearing that number a lot lately. Come tonight to pick up your money and bring the original documents."

"Make sure you remove the Smallville Savings and Loan bonds before you hand it over."

Smartass.

After that pleasant conversation, I drove to Clark's house, puzzled to see the top part of the barn broken. Getting out of the car, I saw someone silhouetted in the light, unable to see details. "Clark?" I called out, but the figure went back inside. "Clark!" Frowning, I was about to go into the barn when he walked right past me, brushing me off. "Clark, we need to talk."

"Just leave me alone." He kept walking.

Somewhat insulted, I went back to my car, lighting a cigarette before I drove home.

Roger Nixon came through the door of my office at eight, eyeing the almost-empty glass of wine I had on my desk. The cash was on the desk as well, making Nixon's eyes gleam.

"I trust I don't have to count it?" he asked, on guard as he tried to read my face.

"I even provided the bag," I said with a lighter mood than his, throwing him a black duffel bag. I watched as he loaded it, taking out the documents from his jacket when he was done and setting them on my desk. He nodded at me and started to exit before my voice stopped him. "You might not want to walk out that door."

Nixon turned, a distrustful look on his face. "Why? Is there a hit man on the other side of it?"

It made me smile. "No. Nothing nearly that drastic. If you walk out of this room, every record of you will disappear. Roger Nixon won't exist."

Nixon gave me an unbelieving smirk, turning again.

"Think about it. No bank account, no social security number, no record of Roger Nixon ever existing. Call your bank if you don't believe me...if your phone hasn't already been disconnected." The pleasantries faded as he pulled out his cell phone defiantly, trying to dial the number, but then looking at his phone with a puzzled expression. Eyes widening, he looked back at me helplessly.

"What have you done?"

"That's not the worst of it. I could give you a new identity. I was considering a drug dealer, rapist, maybe even a murderer. Your wife would leave you and take the kids, you'd get fired from your job at the _Inquisitor_. Your name would be listed for everyone to access on the internet, but they wouldn't need it, because they'd read about it in the paper."

He looked devastated. The darker part of me reveled in his expression of fear and panic.

"I noticed your brother works in juvenile court. Did he get the records for you? What'd you tell him? That he could make some quick cash?"

"Leave him out of this."

"I wasn't the one who brought him into it, Rog."

Realization dawned on him. "What do you want?"

I gave him an appreciative smile for figuring it out. "I feed you stories, you print them. Anything negative about me, you throw out."

"And? The money?" He looked somewhat fearful that he was going to lose it.

"Unlike you, Mr. Nixon, I always keep my word. I'm going to destroy the records, and you can keep the money. But I want you to do a little investigative journalism for me. Follow me." I got up, leading him to the underground lab. The lights lit up around my destroyed Porsche, and I could see Nixon looking at the dent in the front and fingering the torn top. So there was some intelligence behind the shyster techniques.

"What'd you do to it?"

"Drove it off a bridge. Not on purpose, mind you. I want you to find out everything you can about the accident and why I survived when I should've died. I trust this isn't beyond your skill."

"No. I can do it." His eyes were already bright with curiosity, looking at the computer console's recreation of the accident as well.

"Good."


	6. The Future

**Disclaimer: **As much as I'd like to, I don't own any of these characters.

**Reviewers: **Thanks for commenting, Lexappeal. Love the screen name.

**Author's Note: **Sorry this one took so long; my fics have been on hiatus because of school. I didn't want to wait until I got to Clark's Red K experience for them to experience a little romance, so I put some in this chapter. Addition: Thanks to Fioreth for pointing out an inconsistency. It should be fixed now!

**The Future**

I parked my car half a mile from the Kents' front door. From there, I sleuthed to the front door, seeing that it was open behind the screen door and looking inside. I forced myself to slowly count to five, opening the screen door, stepping inside, and easing the door shut without a sound. Sneaking slowly across the wooden floor so the creaking was kept to a minimum, I smelled blueberry, the excitement I was already getting from my sleuthing swelling in my chest as I stepped into the kitchen.

Martha Kent was taking blueberry muffins out of the oven, seeing me and offering a warm smile. "Jonathan won't be home for at least two hours. He had to go to Metropolis to pick up supplies." That was all I needed to hear, unable to help the rather large and mischievous smile that crossed my features. Martha's covered hands grabbed a hot muffin and put it on a plate, putting the rest on a serving dish and removing her protective gloves. "Be careful. They're fresh out of the oven."

Following her advice, I didn't touch my muffin yet, though the child in me was aching to suffer burnt fingers just to feel the blueberry flavor melting on my tongue. I've never had anything truly home-cooked by either of my parents, always having a cook to do it for me. "I'd like to learn how to bake," I said out of the blue, and Martha's eyes twinkling with a mixture of sympathy and glee that her cooking could inspire me.

"If Jonathan ever gets rid of the idea that he needs a restraining order, you can learn from me. I'm sorry for how he's been acting, Lex. It's really not like him to dislike someone like that." Martha poured two mugs of coffee, one for herself and the other for me.

"You don't need to apologize for his behavior. I can understand his hatred of my father, and I can only hope that I can show everyone in Smallville that I'm an individual. Despite what everyone believes, I had a mother." I felt a tug at my lip, smirking a bit as I raised the cup to my lips and took a long drink, savoring the sweetened taste. Martha put cream and sugar in her coffee as well, and I had an inkling that Jonathan was the type of man to take his coffee black. "Where's Clark? It's Saturday."

Martha rolled her eyes without actually doing so, a trait I'd mastered throughout the years. It was easy to recognize the signs, even on someone else. "He told me he was going to the nursing home."

I had a feeling it wasn't for charity. "Is he volunteering there or dogging Lana?"

She smiled at my quickness. "Probably dogging Lana."

I took another drink of coffee, hiding my disappointment. Lana was competition, but Clark was fifteen, almost sixteen. Very, very, very inaccessible to me at the moment. It would be ignorant to presume I could ever have a relationship with him, being six years older. "Why can't men ever just tell a woman how they're feeling?" I'd like to know what Clark was thinking all the time. He seemed to have the weight of the world on his shoulders all the time, running everywhere and saving everyone. Hero complex, I thought. It was too early to judge, and I really shouldn't have been analyzing one of my friends.

"You're preaching to the choir. Jonathan _still _doesn't tell me what's on his mind." The look in Martha's eyes was lonely, and I got the feeling that she'd never told anyone this before. Of course not. She probably had to constantly hold up that perfectly married image to the townspeople, and from what she'd described, she couldn't talk to Jonathan about her feelings. Clark would have trouble dealing with his parent's problems added to his own, so there was no way he would know.

"I don't think I'm missing much, not being married. Of course, Lionel keeps sending men my way. To his credit, he never stops trying." Most of the men Lionel knew were jerks anyways. Jeff Bridges was a prime example. That was still bothering me. Someone was calling my home every five minutes and hanging up when I answered. The police did absolutely nothing to help.

"Why does he want you to be married so badly?" I almost evaded the question because I was so used to doing so. Picking off of the top of my muffin, I put the piece in my mouth, thinking of exactly how I should phrase it. I didn't see the point of lying. Martha was a nice woman, and she'd treated me better than most people.

"He thinks that if I do, people will stop spreading rumors about me. My past wasn't exactly the best example of being a perfect Luthor, and everyone in Smallville believes that I'm a cold-hearted bitch because I don't sleep around and I'm not married. I think he just wants something to be proud of." That was the abridged version. The detailed record of my past was sealed, supposedly, but that was another recent problem of mine that was actually solved.

"He should be proud of you. You're an excellent scientist, and you can actually think for yourself. Most women with your kind of beauty just marry the first man they meet with money and end up taking it all." If only my father could have Martha's point of view. I picked at my muffin more, savoring the sweet taste.

"He thinks that I should be more. It's never enough for him. It's always been this way, so I'm used to it by now." I finished my muffin. "Thanks for the muffin, Martha. I've never had one that good."

"Let me wrap you another one to take home." I didn't protest as she opened a Ziploc bag and placed another muffin into it, closing it and giving it to me. I slipped it into the pocket of my coat. Kansas was actually a bit chilly today.

I heard the screen door close and tensed, seeing Martha freeze, but Clark's voice permeating the atmosphere made us both sigh in relief. "Mom! We need to talk!" he shouted before walking into the kitchen and grabbing a muffin. He didn't notice me until he pulled away, looking a bit nervous at first before he gave me one of those oh-so-irresistible farm-boy smiles that I was starting to love so much, running a hand through his dark curls. "Hey, Lex." Whatever anxiety that was in his aqua green eyes as soon as he saw me had faded, and I wondered if his constantly bright personality was an act.

"Hey, Clark. What's up?" I studied him as he looked from me to Martha, as if he was making a decision.

"Nothing. I just got back from the nursing home."

"How's Lana?"

The nervous look was back. "She's shaken. One of the seniors she took care of disappeared. They said he might've died. They found his wheelchair in the lake out back."

Martha clucked her tongue. "How sad. Will she be alright?"

"I hope so. Something else happened."

Judging by Clark's look, it was something unusual and unsettling. "What?" I took the initiative to ask.

"I visited another resident named Cassandra Carver. She's blind, but she seemed to know a lot for a blind person. She claimed to be a psychic, and she sort of...told me my future." His gaze lowered to the floor, being uncomfortable. "She saw me surrounded by graves. Everyone I love is going to die."

Martha looked shocked. Before she could say anything, my mind was already full of questions that were just waiting for my mouth to move. "How do you know she's not a fraud? Anyone could predict that."

"Because...I saw it too." He took a large bite of his muffin.

"What, like a vision?" Martha asked.

"Or a hallucination?" I couldn't help sounding cruel. My mind was purely scientific. I didn't believe in things like fate or coincidence.

"It was like a vision," he corrected, almost scolding me if he weren't so damn nice about everything he said. "I saw a bunch of graves surrounding me."

"Well, that doesn't mean it's true, Clark," I debated.

"And you shouldn't put any stock in it," Martha said, touching Clark's hand.

"Any number of things could've caused the vision." I was still sticking to science. "Maybe I should speak to her."

I heard a truck, suddenly on high alert. "I have to go. That's your dad. I wasn't here." I gave them a quick smile before exiting through the back, just as I heard the screen door to the front close. Sneaking around and avoiding the windows, I thought I was in the clear when I reached the sign that hung over the driveway stating whose farm it was, but my pleased demeanor quickly evaporated when I heard the screen door again. _Caught._

"I thought I told you to stay off this farm, Miss Luthor," came Jonathan's bitter voice.

I turned, half-expecting to see a shotgun in his hands, but the only weapon he had was his incinerating glare. "I must have short-term memory loss. Surely if you made a logical threat, I would've remembered."

"I don't want you near my son."

The statement was like a gunshot. I was rarely caught by surprise, but I quickly hid it behind a mask of cool indifference. "Why? What are you so afraid of?"

"Your corruption. Clark has good morals, and I don't want that to change because of who his friends are."

He was grating on my nerves. Martha was right about his stubbornness. "If Clark has such high and mighty morals, he wouldn't let himself be corrupted in the first place. He has the right to choose who his friends are."

Jonathan reddened. I could see Clark listening in, standing behind the screen door and being extremely quiet. It was easy not to notice he was there. The look on his face was somewhat distressed. "I'll protect my son any way I can, especially from a Luthor."

"Are you homophobic, Mr. Kent? Racist? Sexist?" My tone was vehement by now, my arms crossed over my chest while my posture showed that I wasn't pleased.

"No," he said sharply, as if he were insulted.

"Then why are you so goddamned intent on discriminating against someone because of their name?" I was pissed off now. "You're being a bigot any way you look at it."

"You were raised by Lionel. How could I trust you with my son?" Clark looked miserable in the doorway, but I wasn't planning on being a good girl and staying away from him.

"I was raised by Lillian too. A lot of people forget that my mother was a kind, honest person, and she raised me until she died. You're forgetting that I don't _like _my father, much less want to be like him. I don't idolize him, and I'll never follow in his footsteps. So stop treating me like a leper and kindly show some respect." Clark's mouth hung open, and now Martha was behind him, her eyes almost fearful of Jonathan's reaction.

Jonathan's frown didn't fade, and he turned around, seeing both Martha and Clark in the doorway. "I still don't feel comfortable with it." He went inside, and Clark gave me one last sympathetic glance before I turned and started walking to my car.

I hated how my place in this world was always determined by my father's status. Maybe I could go to Canada. Or somewhere they'd never heard of the name Luthor.

I needed a chance to feel better about myself. I was curious about the psychic, so the nursing home was my next stop. I asked for Cassandra Carver at the front desk, and they told me how to get to her room. When I walked inside, I watched her with avid interest, because the woman seemed to be innately aware of my presence even though the floor was carpeted.

"Is there a name to go with the expensive heels?" She was looking right at me. If her eyes weren't glazed over in that hazy blue color, I wouldn't have known she was blind.

"Lex Luthor." I figured that she wouldn't know where my hand was if I extended it, so I kept it in my pocket.

"I'm Cassandra Carver. What brings you here?"

"Why don't you tell me?" I was testing her. She claimed to be psychic, so she should know.

"You're a friend of Clark Kent's, aren't you?" Her lips spread into a smile, the skin of the corners of her eyes crinkling.

I was amused. "Yes. He told me about your vision. He says you can see the future."

"What I see is a possibility. The person has the power to change their future if they take appropriate action and then their future changes. Would you like me to see your future, Miss Luthor?" She opened her hand, palm facing up, but my hands stayed in my pockets.

"I thought both people could see it." That was what Clark had said, wasn't it?

"No. Your friend Clark is special. Usually, only I can see it and tell the person what I see."

I was still hanging on to the word 'special.' Special how? "No one except Clark has seen their own vision?"

Cassandra nodded her head in verification, her silver hair tied tightly into a bun at the back of her head.

"How is he special?" I asked softly, knowing it was forbidden territory. There was no way that my questions about Clark's mysteries would be answered so quickly and painlessly.

"It's not my place to tell you, Miss Luthor. Clark will tell you when he's ready."

So there _was _something. "I just came here to ask questions. I didn't believe Clark when he told me about you."

"You don't want to see your destiny?" Her question was curious.

"I make my own destiny." The statement was final, and she frowned, putting her hand back in her lap. "Good day, Miss Carver."

My interest was aflame. I went home, calling Roger Nixon from my cell phone.

"Roger Nixon."

"Have you found anything yet?" My tone was impatient.

"I found some odds and ends. The Kent boy disappears at odd times, and whenever he goes outside of an establishment...he vanishes. I know I didn't lose him. One second he was there, and the next, he was gone."

"That's it? He just...disappears?" I suspected Nixon was lying.

"Yes. I'm not crazy, and I'm not blind."

"Are you aware of what will happen to you if you don't find out what he's hiding?"

"Miss Luthor, I swear, he disappears. He's nowhere in sight."

"So you're suggesting that he can teleport?"

"Possibly. I had reports of him arriving somewhere else within a minute. Across town. Smallville may be small, but that's impossible, even in a car."

I paused. "Alright. You did well, Nixon, but I want you to record him the next time he disappears. You're going to need a video camera that can be dramatically slowed down, so we can see just what happened."

"Do I have an expense account?"

I rolled my eyes. "I added money to your bank account. That should cover your expenses and payment for your services." I could tell he didn't like that the expenses would be subtracted from his payment. "Or, we could just remake you into Chester the Molester." He didn't like that either.

Contrary to popular belief, I did have work to do. I had to play catch-up because of time spent investigating the Kents and seeing Cassandra Carver. I felt somewhat guilty about investigating the family, mostly because of Martha and Clark, but Jonathan's behavior so far assured me that they were hiding something major. There was no doubt that the secret was in the blue-green eyes of the seemingly innocent farm boy.

After seven hours behind a pile of paperwork and my laptop, my eyes were getting tired from looking at the computer screen. The plant's business was moderate, but it wasn't booming. The company needed something new. Maybe a new blend of fertilizer. Part of my business lately was testing out different catalysts to see if they stimulated plant growth more than the normal fertilizer.

I was drawn out of work mode by the doors to my office opening, an attractive teenager dressed in red and blue making me look up and smile weakly. "Clark." I saw the expression on his face after my eyes adjusted from pixels to atoms, one of intense worry as he sat down in a chair directly across from my desk. "What's wrong?" My temporary smile disappeared, immediately concerned.

"Nothing. I've just had a rough night." The nothing part was a lie, but he was here, so he obviously needed someone to talk to.

"What happened?" I closed my laptop, concentrating completely on him. He looked uncomfortable, his fingers interlaced.

"It was kind of this freak accident. Remember how I told you that one of Lana's regulars disappeared from the nursing home?" I nodded. "Well, we found a picture of him when he was younger, and he was walking around like that. He tried to kill a lot of people, including my parents. Mom almost died."

"How did his age rewind?" It was interesting, bordering on unbelievable, but I don't think Clark had it in him to lie. Except about his secret, whatever it was.

"He knocked himself and his wheelchair over into the lake. The electricity stimulated a reaction with the meteor rocks at the bottom of the lake to make him appear young again."

I was silent for a few moments, still processing what he said about the meteor rocks. If they had such special properties, maybe they would be useful in a few of my own experiments. "Is your mother alright?"

He nodded, though he still looked a little freaked. "She's fine. Did you ever visit Cassandra?"

I could tell he was curious about my future. I was starting to share that interest, possibly even obsess over it. "Yes, but she didn't read my future. I'm thinking about changing my mind and going back tomorrow."

"Hopefully yours will be better than mine." I could tell he was still hurting over the vision of the death of all his loved ones, so I stood and came out from behind the desk, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe you can change it. You always seem to be there when someone needs you." The statement wasn't without its sentiment, though compassion was hardly a familiar emotion to me.

"I can't stop death," he said softly, more to himself than me.

I squeezed his shoulder for comfort, making a mental note for the millionth time of how muscled he was beneath all that plaid. "Death is our fate, whether we like it or not. The only variable is the question of how and when."

True to my word, the next day I was back at the nursing home, wearing different shoes just to see if she still recognized me.

Cassandra looked right at me and smiled. "Good afternoon, Miss Luthor."

I couldn't help but smile in curiosity. "How'd you know it was me?"

"Your shoes are always expensive." Her frosted-over eyes seemed to twinkle. "And you're always in such a hurry to get where you're going."

She had me there. "Do you know why I'm here?"

"Your curiosity has gotten the better of you." She turned her palm up and lifted it.

I sat on the corner of the bed, warily grasping her hand. Almost immediately, her warm smile faded, her eyes full of an emotion I knew well. Fear. She frowned deeply, and then I couldn't see any reaction for about twenty seconds. She'd suddenly gone very still. Almost as if..."Miss Carver?" I pressed my index finger to her wrist, feeling for a pulse. When I found none, my shock turned into icy fear, twisting in my stomach. I let go of her hand, my mouth open in shock. Did I cause her death? What did she see? The questions had little time to boggle my mind.

Clark was in the doorway, frozen there by the look on my face. He looked somewhat crestfallen. Clark came out of it first, coming to me, putting his hands on my shoulders and helping me up. "Come on," he insisted as an employee came in, frowning.

I numbly followed where his hand on the small of my back led me. We were out of the nursing home when I spoke at last, though it was only somewhat coherent. "Clark, sh-she..."

He shushed me, though not unkindly, rubbing my back to try and comfort me. "It's okay. It wasn't your fault." He looked at my ice blue Corvette with some trepidation.

"I can drive," I said suddenly, though I wasn't quite sure. I just had to ignore the fact that a woman had died while seeing my future less than ten minutes ago.

"Are you sure?" Could he read minds?

"I'm sure, Clark. Can we just not talk about it for now?" I didn't mean for my tone to be as terse as it was, but I was stressed out, to say the least.

"Yeah." His voice was quieter.

The ride was silent. I could tell that Clark was trying to think up a conversation, but it wasn't coming out. I could only ignore the problem for so long before I pulled the car over, dust kicking up over the side of the road. Clark looked at me with concern, and he was right to do so. "Clark, she was reading my future when she died."

A sharp intake of air informed me that he was surprised. "What? She didn't get a chance to tell you anything?"

I shook my head, my hands still on the wheel. "No. I think she died because of it. She looked really distressed, and then..."

"Lex, you can't possibly blame yourself for her death." The statement contained genuine shock. He was used to seeing me stable, even in times of crisis.

"I do. How could I not? My future was obviously so terrifying that she died from just seeing the possibility."

"She was old. You said it yourself. Death is a natural thing. It was just her time to go."

I suddenly noticed that I could feel his breath on my lips. That could've been because he was so close to me, our mouths unintentionally close together. Both of us realized it at the same time, the nearness striking both of us silent. _He's fifteen, he's fifteen, he's fifteen..._The gap between us closed, and I couldn't tell which one of us initiated the kiss. At first it was chaste, lips softly touching before my instinct took over, gripping his lips with my own in an open-mouth, strictly no-tongue kiss. The soft moan from the back of his throat told me that his hormones were raging, otherwise he wouldn't be doing something so non-innocent.

My thoughts were none, my body buzzing in pleasure from something as small as a kiss. My hand grazed his cheek. My eyes were closed, the contact being almost too much for me to handle as the tip of his tongue touched mine just for a second before he suddenly pulled away, his chest rising and falling faster than usual. We were both aroused, and it almost made me make a really bad decision. _He's fifteen! _I just had to remind myself. I let out a small sigh, turning my eyes guiltily to the road again as my hands gripped the wheel. I could see him turning a deep shade of red, and I would've found it cute were I not beating myself up over my lack of self-control.

"I'm sorry," we both said at the same time, making a small smile tug at his lips. I started driving again, knowing I'd have to drop Clark off first.

The silence was ten times more uncomfortable this time.


	7. Show No Fear

**Reviews: **Thanks for commenting again, Lexappeal, and I have to thank BrokenAngel1753 for taking the time and effort to comment through PM. I love you guys.

**Show No Fear**

Clark Kent kissed me. Or I kissed Clark Kent. I wasn't sure which one it really was. Of course, it was hardly romantic, considering what I'd just been through. I, the infallible Alexandra Lily Luthor, was upset. I would never tell my father. He expected anyone carrying the Luthor title to be nothing short of all-powerful, omniscient, and completely unemotional. A Luthor would never fear what they could possibly become in the future. They embraced it.

I was still shaken by Cassandra Carver, but after two weeks, I was over it for the most part. Life moved on, and I had to get back to being a Luthor and running the Smallville plant. This morning, I decided to make a change in my everyday appearance. The only people outside of me, Lionel, and Clark who knew I was bald were the people who made my wigs. I spoke with them this morning and picked up several new styles, all in a rich, dark brown, almost black. It looked good with my tan, which had been obtained by spending unlimited amounts of time in tanning beds.

Clark's reaction was priceless. I had just gotten back from a business meeting, expecting to find my office empty, but instead I found a very shocked, sixteen-year-old Clark Kent gaping at me. "You...You changed your hair," was all he could manage, and I was amused to see his sea-green eyes not being able to tear themselves away from my new look.

"I did. Do you like it?" I was more curious than my tone revealed. Clark was sitting in my chair, the one behind my desk, his full lips slightly parted as he tried to compile an appropriate answer. In the meantime, I admired his cheeks going from a golden tan to a dark crimson color, sitting down across from him.

"Um, it's...pretty. I like it." The last part was mumbled, and only the superior Luthorian ears could pick up exactly what he said.

"Jeez, Clark," I started, crossing one leg over the other and examining him, which made him blush even more, if that was at all possible. "Are you an alien?"

Surprisingly, he looked somewhat startled. I quickly clarified what I meant, marveling at what level of intelligence his generation had sunken to.

"You can't talk about your feelings without blushing. You can't even compliment a girl. Are you really that socially awkward?"

He looked uncomfortable. I sighed heavily, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Fine. I won't bug you about it."

"I'm having a party tonight," he said abruptly, looking down at his hands.

I couldn't help but smile. "A party while your parents are out of town? Wow, there just might be a bad side to Clark Kent after all."

"They're celebrating their anniversary. I'm going to have the whole farm to myself. What am I supposed to do?"

"Throw a party and invite all your friends." It was what any normal teenager would do. And it wasn't like the Kents wouldn't forgive him if they ever found out.

"Do you want to come?" It was rushed, sounding more like 'dwannacm', but I got the message.

I waved my hand dismissively. "Come on, Clark. I'm an adult. There's no way your friends would like me being there. Besides, you'll have Lana."

"Lana's going with Whitney. There's no way he'll leave her side the whole night. I need someone to talk to. Plus, if things get out of hand, you'll be there to help me." His pale blue eyes widened pleadingly.

"What about Pete and Chloe?" One more second of the puppy dog eyes would completely disarm me.

"What if they don't come? Then it'll just be me, Lana, and Whitney."

"I see." I thought about my schedule for tonight, remembering that Lionel was out of town and nearly bursting with joy. "I suppose I could make an appearance. But this is going to be a small gathering type of thing, right? Not a million teenagers packed under one roof?"

"Right."

At 8:00 p.m., the Kent house was crowded with people. Barely receiving a passing glance from what seemed to be drunk teenagers, I quickly found Clark sitting on his couch, watching several dishes and vases getting broken. He almost looked miserable.

"Clark," I started, sitting next to him. He looked much better now that he had my company. "I thought it was going to be small."

"So did I. I don't even know half these people."

Another crash sounded. "Sounds like you're going to be buying a new set of dishes before your parents get back."

"If they don't come home early and kill me first."

Fireworks sounded, bursts of colored light illuminating the curtains. "Don't worry about it; they're mine. I figured it would distract people from breaking things for a few minutes."

Sure enough, a lot of the crowd exited the house, looking up at the elaborate fireworks. "My class is supposed to take a field trip to the Luthorcorp plant tomorrow."

"I hope you guys don't get bored to death. If you don't have an interest in science, crap can get boring fast."

My comment made him smile, which in turn made me smile. I found that the smiles were a lot easier to pull off around him, and they weren't for show. I genuinely enjoyed my time with him. Lionel taught me that friendship was a luxury I couldn't afford, that they would just stab me in the back in the end, but I couldn't see it happening with Clark.

We went outside to watch the fireworks, unfortunately running into Lana and Whitney. Clark went to walk away, but I saw Whitney's smirk and grabbed his hand in a gesture I didn't realize was intimate until after I'd done it.

"Mr. Fordman, Miss Lang, how are you?" I forced a smile onto my face.

"Fine," Whitney said in a demanding tone, wrapping an arm around Lana's waist.

I think Clark was a little stunned by my gesture, and stunned turned to embarrassed when Lana's eyes turned downward to see us holding hands with interlaced fingers. His cheeks went red, and I could feel his grip on my hand tighten, albeit not painfully.

"Are you two an item?" Whitney asked hopefully, and I half-wondered if he intended to blackmail me with the information.

"No," Clark and I said in unison, though I regained myself more quickly than he did. "We're just friends."

I could see Clark getting a little queasy from the corner of my eye, a glint of light from Lana's meteor rock necklace catching my eye as well.

"We should go," I suggested, turning and coaxing cooperation from Clark to move with a tug of his hand. "Clark has to check on the party."

He looked grateful as I led the way back to the house, and I could see him searching for an explanation.

"Don't worry about it, Clark." I let go of his hand, checking my watch.

"Clark!" came Lana's voice again, her expression urgent. "You better get out here."

I nodded my head, letting him know it was okay to go on without me. When Clark didn't come back after fifteen minutes, I left, miraculously finding my Porsche unscathed. At least teenage vandals had some respect for a good car. I could see that older cars were keyed, nasty things written on the side. I figured Clark wouldn't mind that I left. He probably had something come up.

The next day, I was awakened from my sleep at noon, grumpily gazing at the phone and hitting it with my palm before I picked it up and held it to my ear. "Lex Luthor."

I drove my black Porsche through the gates of the Smallville plant, which were cluttered with angry parents. Parking my car, I went back to the gates, seeing Jonathan and Martha Kent and specifying to the guard to let them through. Martha and Jonathan followed me to a security area, and I knew I was going to get trouble from Jonathan, at the very least.

"Where's our son?" demanded Jonathan, and I was surprised he hadn't brought a shotgun.

"He's being held hostage by a former Luthorcorp employee--"

"Earl Jenkins," Jonathan finished, almost breathlessly.

"Yes. All the employees managed to get out except one, and he's taken the students hostage as well."

"Is anyone hurt?" Martha asked, her expression filled with nothing but concerned.

"Not yet, but he's threatening that someone will be if he's not taken to some imaginary place called Level Three."

"Earl told me about that in the hospital. He said that there was an explosion that made him ill." Jonathan was tense.

I raised my eyebrows. "There's no record of such an explosion, and there's no Level Three on the Luthorcorp blueprints."

"Well, he thinks it's the only place he can get a cure." Jonathan's tone radiated irritation, and I knew it was just his way of expressing worry without outright expressing it.

"Then we have a problem, don't we?" I smoothed down my violet tank top, which was the only thing I could find to go with my black dress pants on such short notice. We eyed the surveillance video of a man pacing back and forth in a room full of scared students, and Martha's question was a logical one.

"Where's Clark?"

"There." I pointed at Clark, who had just come into the picture holding blueprints. Whatever conversation that ensued made Jenkins mad, and he pointed his gun at Clark until he sat down with the other students.

A helicopter flew overhead, making me frown.

"Who's that?" Martha yelled through the noise, seeing my grimace.

"My father." What a time for Lionel to show up.

Lionel immediately approached me, and I knew I was in for a lecture.

"How could you allow this to happen?"

"I didn't allow anyt--"

He interrupted. "How did he get in?"

"I think--"

"Don't _think, _Lex. Know."

I sighed. "You think we could hold this fight off for a while? There are innocent children inside our plant being held at gunpoint by a lunatic."

"Yes, this Level Three nonsense," sighed Lionel, adjusting his glasses. He rarely wore them, but it made the press more sympathetic to him.

"I've assured everyone that Level Three doesn't exist. That is the truth, isn't it, Dad?" I was angry, but I knew if I got in his face, he would throw it right back at me.

"Of course it is. Why aren't you dressed more appropriately?" He examined my garb with scrutiny, his eyes dark.

"I wanted to get here as fast as I could so that I could attempt to resolve the situation."

"What are you going to do about the children?" Martha questioned insistently.

"I'll get my SWAT team in there, and they'll handle the situation appropriately," Lionel assured in that infuriating tone of voice, as if he were pacifying a child.

"What about Clark?" Jonathan butted in, his eyes glaring at Lionel.

"I do not negotiate with terrorists," Lionel insisted, throwing another disapproving glance at me. "And neither should you."

My father got on the phone, pretending like he was helping the situation, but he was really making it worse. It was proven when Earl started shaking inhumanly fast, grabbing into a gas valve and breaking it. I read the label on the equipment, grinding my teeth a bit.

"Way to go, Dad. Nice strategy. Are you planning to save the kids or blow them to smithereens with methane gas?"

Lionel frowned, shooting me a glare. My eyes were on the screen, seeing Whitney trying to sneak up on Jenkins.

"Shit," I muttered just before Jenkins caught him, throwing him to the ground and shooting Whitney in the shoulder and then the camera.

"Someone's got to do something," Jonathan demanded, and I suddenly made up my mind.

"You're right. I'm going in," I decided, walking away with Lionel following me.

"Lex! Honey, don't be foolhardy."

"It's my plant and my decision." I walked past an officer. "Get him on the phone, and tell him Lex Luthor's coming to see him. Give me your vest."

Okay, so it was probably a stupid idea on my part. I was probably going to end up getting myself killed. The officer showed me how to put his bulletproof vest on, looking almost ridiculous because it flared out some around my waist, but at least I wouldn't get shot in the heart or the gut. I headed down into the plant, smelling gas immediately and nearly choking on it before I got used to it, though it made me long for open air.

I went into the room I knew to be a control room, seeing the kids huddled into the sides and corners. Lana was holding a cloth to Whitney's bloody shoulder, and I had to question his health, even though I wanted to be petty and let him bleed out. "How is he?"

"He's okay for now," Lana responded, though there was fear in her eyes.

"Luthor sent his own daughter to do his dirty work for him?" Jenkins questioned, shaking his head.

"I'm not doing anyone's dirty work. This is my plant, not my father's." I knew my presence was making him nervous, so I unstrapped the vest and tossed it aside in a gesture of trust. "What good will killing these kids do you, Earl? My father will make you out to be the villain, no matter what happens."

"I'm not the bad guy," Earl insisted, pointing the gun at me.

I put my hands up. "Let the kids go. I'll show you Level Three."

"Stop lying to me!" he shouted.

"I'm not lying. I know where it is."

A moment of deliberation passed, and he finally waved the gun at the kids. "Get out. Get out!"

The kids hurried out of the room, all except Clark, who was looking at me almost reverently. "Do you really know where Level Three is?" he whispered.

"Yeah," I said softly. "It's in his head, Clark. You saw the blueprints."

"Clark!" Jenkins shouted, gesturing to the door. "Get out of here."

Suddenly, I was alone with a very dangerous man with a gun in his hands and my bulletproof vest on the floor. It was a bad situation.

"Okay, now fulfill your end of the deal. Where's Level Three?"

"There is no Level Three. It's all in your head." He smacked the back of my head with the gun, knocking me to my knees while a flash of red burst behind my eyelids. Ow.

Clark's voice suddenly came from an intercom system. "Earl, I found Level Three. They hid the elevator behind a wall."

"You're lying! Just like the rest of them!" He cocked the hammer, and I could see the gun being pointed in my direction.

"I'm not lying, Earl. Don't you want to come and see?"

Earl seemed to think for a moment before he grabbed me by the scruff of my shirt, dragging me to my feet and pulling me along with him. "Come on, Miss Luthor. Let's go find out the truth."

The hallways seemed long, my steps mostly stumbles. He had a tight hold of my shirt, so if I didn't keep up a certain pace, my own shirt choked me, and I could feel it sliding up my back because of his grip. We came to a small janitor's closet with a hole in the wall, an elevator in the room behind it.

"See, Luthor? It was here all along." He dragged me through the hole and into the elevator, where I pointedly stared at the buttons.

"Two buttons, two levels, Earl," I said almost triumphantly, but then he reached forward and pressed the black area right beneath the second button, which glowed in a circular pattern. Fuck. Lionel sent me into this ignorant. How could he keep something like this from me? I'd be sure to ask him if I didn't die first. When the elevator doors opened, he threw me out onto a catwalk, my head thumping against metal as I tried to gaze into the blackness that enveloped the rest of the room.

"See? See!" he cried out joyfully, turning on the lights.

The room was empty. The catwalk was about twenty-five feet above the floor, and I could see nothing in my field of vision.

"Where is it? Over there," he pointed, "there used to be corn, and they used to spray this mist on it. It was this green mist, and it would make the corn grow faster."

Was he out of his mind? Green mist. Pfft.

"What'd you do with it, Luthor!" He pointed the gun at me.

"Earl," Clark called out from the elevator. "Let's just go back upstairs and talk about this."

"Talk about what? I can't get better if I don't know what's poisoning me!"

"Clark, I didn't know about this. You have to believe me." I'd been betrayed by my own father, something that was dreadfully recurrent in my life.

"I believe you, Lex," he said softly, letting me know that he was telling me the truth.

"She's lying! She's just like her father!" Earl shouted before he started shaking again.

The catwalk shook with him. I grabbed on to the railing, my heart pounding inside my chest as I heard screws popping loose, the groan of metal letting me know what was going to happen. Luckily, Earl's section gave out first, making him hang from the railing. A few seconds later, I felt the railing buckle beneath me, looking for Clark and seeing him trying to pull Earl up. I got a look at his oddly...emerald green veins before it gave out completely, making me flip over the railing trying to hang on.

"Clark!" I cried out, nearly hyperventilating as I looked down. Twenty-five feet. Not a good fall. My brains would probably splatter across the floor.

"Hold on." He gritted his teeth, and I could tell he was trying to lift Earl, but something was wrong.

My arms were hurting. He had Earl halfway up.

"Just a few more seconds," Clark told me, seeing my grip start to slip.

"I can't," I breathed, pain shooting through my arms and forcing me to break my grip. I saw Clark's face, his eyes widened as he seemed to try and move, but he couldn't, as if something were holding him back from leaping into the air and rescuing me mid-fall. Luckily, Earl was in my trajectory, and I managed to grab on to the lower part of his legs. I think I was screaming. I couldn't help it. I was scared. I wasn't supposed to be, but I would love to see Lionel in my position.

Clark finally managed to pull Earl up, immediately grabbing my arms.

"Earl! Get to the elevator!" Clark shouted, and he started away from us.

Clark seemed faster now as he pulled me up against him, into his arms. I was warm and safe in his arms, clinging to him with tired and aching arms.

"Are you okay?" His voice was concerned, his breath on my ear.

"I think so." I was unsure, seeing as we were still on the catwalk. He started moving to the side, trying to get to the elevator. I felt relief as we stepped on the side of the catwalk that was still properly attached, letting him go as we walked toward the exit. We froze when Earl started shaking. He was seizing harder than before, gripping the railing of the catwalk, and Clark and I looked at each other with a sense of doom. Sure enough, screws popped loose and clattered to the ground, and we were both rushing forward. Clark got there first, and I almost made it, but in the last step, the catwalk fell out from underneath me.

I reached forward, and Clark's hands grabbed mine, a relieved smile fluttering over his features.

"I've got you."

I groaned as he pulled me up, my heart racing way too fast for my health. "I hate heights. I'm never going above five feet from the ground again."

We made it out safely, and I saw Lionel and headed over to him immediately.

"Lex," Clark started, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Clark, I have to confront him." The look of steely resolution in my eyes made him back off as I closed the distance between me and Lionel. "Why didn't you tell me there was a Level Three?"

"I said Level Three wasn't on any blueprints."

"Is that you trying to justify yourself? It's not going to work."

The press started rushing towards us, and Lionel patted my shoulder. "You've had a hard day, dear. Let me take care of this."

He cleared his throat before addressing them. "The Level Three Earl Jenkins was referring to was a storage area, not somewhere we sent our workers. We do not know where he contracted this virus, but--"

"But we're going to get Mr. Jenkins the best medical care possible," I finished for him, and he glared behind his smile. "We care about our employees. Here at Luthorcorp, we're like a family. And family always comes first, right, Dad?"

He nodded numbly, pulling me into a hug, which he knew infuriated me. It was good PR.

I gazed to my left, seeing Clark reunited with his parents, all of them smiling, pulling each other into real hugs. The love in that family was apparent, while Dad was patting my back and pretending to comfort me. It was a cold gesture, while the Kents were radiating warmth. I caught Clark's eye, and he almost looked worried before I ripped my gaze away from him, not letting him see the tears in my eyes.

Lionel insisted that I ride home with him in the limo, my Porsche being brought back to the house by one of Lionel's nameless assistants. The first few minutes were silent, and I was avoiding him. My life had been hanging in the balance because he sent me into a situation blind, something I definitely didn't appreciate.

"Will you stop acting like a petulant child?" Lionel suddenly snapped, looking at me. I refused the temptation to look back at him and answer him, so he snarled and pulled my chin so that I was facing him. "Lex, will you talk to me? For God's sake, you're not a teenager anymore. Stop rebelling."

"You sent me into that situation knowing that Level Three existed. I could've died. I almost did, twice, but Clark rescued me. My life was in his hands because of you." It all just poured out, and I could feel the rage finally alleviating itself.

"It was your call. You're the one who chose to go in there. I tried to stop you."

"You're so screwed-up, Dad. How does your mind even begin to wrap itself around the idea that you're completely clean in this situation?"

"Don't go into histrionics, honey. You're here. You're safe. You're alive. That's all that matters."

"You knowingly locked me in there with that guy that you called a lunatic!"

"You know what? You win, Lex. I shouldn't have sent you in there without fully informing you of the situation, but you got me back! You sat there and told the press that we would get him better! Now I'm _wasting _my money on his medical bills."

"You did something to him. You deserve to pay his bills. What were you doing down there?" My curiosity was sparked. The green mist stuck out in my mind, like I should've associated that with something.

"It was a storage area, dear. Stay out of it." He had a completely serious look on his face as the limo stopped. "I don't want your life to be in danger again."

I got out of the limo, mind full of unanswered questions as I watched him pull out of the driveway, thankfully on his way back to Metropolis. I heard thunder, heading inside before it started pouring rain.


	8. Harmless

**Disclaimer: **None of these characters are mine, though I wish they were.

**Comments: **Wow, it's been a while since I worked on this story. I've been missing it. Please review and let me know what you think.

**Harmless**

"What did you have on Clark?" I whispered to the man on the floor, currently dying from a gunshot wound.

"Go to Hell," he murmured, his eyes fluttering lightly as his consciousness slipped away.

My fingers hovered over his open mouth, feeling no puff of breath greet my flesh. "See you there," I muttered under my breath, standing up and leaving Sam Phelan's dead body in the care of my security team.

I had a lot of time to think on the drive home to Smallville. Metropolis's late nights no longer held any appeal to my tastes, the only hunger in my belly being the insatiable curiosity that may soon be satisfied by the security disc that lay in the passenger's seat of my Porsche. The radio was playing soft music while the cogs in my head turned, my heart racing as it did every time I put my mental energy into trying to figure out what exactly was special about Clark.

I knew it was sneaky and underhanded to try to pry the information from Phelan's dying lips, but I wanted to know Clark's secret more than anything. He was my friend above all else, but my curiosity was a force that no one could hold back.

When I got home, the first thing I did was load the disc into my computer. Thankfully, they'd given me just the parts I needed, which included Phelan and then Clark entering the museum I owned. Clark and I had gone there together a week ago, and he'd been my almost-date to the reception I'd thrown. The closer I got to him, the more I wanted to know. Rubbing my forehead, I wondered if I should just high-tail it out of his life before I hurt him.

Suddenly, there was a blur on the camera as Clark disappeared, right before my security team burst into the room. I furrowed my brow, unable to believe my eyes, as I rewound and played again, this time in slow motion. It was Clark's face inside that blur. It led me to the fact that Clark was that blur. Super speed? I rewound further, something catching my eye that hadn't before, and I caught Clark bending the bars and breaking the glass that encased the artifact Phelan wanted him to steal from me in slow motion. Super speed...and super strength. Was this even remotely possible?

The scientific team I had working on my car confirmed my renewed suspicions. It wasn't just a coincidence; Clark could really do all these things. And I had proof. My breath hitched in my throat. The clock told me that Clark would probably still be up if I dropped by, but the Kents wouldn't like it if they found out. I picked up my phone, dialing what I knew to be their number.

"Hello?" questioned Clark's voice, a small smirk upturning the corner of my lips.

"Clark," I started weakly, coughing lightly into the phone. I could've been an actress. "I need help..."

"Hold on, Lex," he insisted, and I hung up the phone.

Not a full minute later, Clark burst into my study, making me blink from behind my desk.

"Jesus, Clark, how the hell did you get here so fast?" There was real surprise in my voice, and it matched the shock on his face.

"Lex? I thought you were hurt." His stormy blue-green eyes were confused as I stood, looking at the blood on my shirt I'd forgotten about. "_Are _you hurt?"

"No, Clark. I'm sorry. I just...I had a hard day and I needed someone to talk to." It was my first admission of some kind of emotion today, and it was halfway true.

"You could've just told me that." He didn't seem angry, but he was a little red.

"Then you wouldn't have gotten here so fast. Which you still owe me an explanation for."

He shifted his eyes downward. "Where'd the blood come from?"

My hands went on my hips as I neared him. "Don't change the subject. Sam Phelan broke into my museum and tried to steal Alexander the Great's armor. My guards shot him."

"He's dead?" The question wasn't sad, but it wasn't happy either. I knew that Phelan was blackmailing Clark, and it caused sour feelings, but Clark could never escape that innocence that made him so irresistible.

"Yes. And I know you won't say it, so I will. Good riddance to a bad cop." Suddenly, I found myself eye to eye with him, though he had to tilt his head downwards because I wasn't wearing my heels and was about four inches shorter than him.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked softly, though I could detect a note of bitterness in his voice.

The air was thick. I suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe. "No, Clark. I'm an ice queen. There's a six-inch shell of it around my heart."

He smiled warmly, bringing my eyes down to his full lips. The sight of his smile was enough to melt the ice off of anyone's heart. "You remind me of one of those legendary Amazon warrior princesses. Nothing fazes you."

"Like Xena?" I teased, thinking I might be harmlessly flirting, but his lips were inches from mine.

"Like Xena." My hands rested on my desk, the edge of which suddenly pushing against my backside. Soft lips were pressing against mine, and I couldn't help wrapping my arms around his neck, feeling the corded muscles beneath his warm flesh. I almost forgot to breathe as our tongues met, a completely sensual and passionate action.

I forgot about his age completely. He kissed better than any man I'd known, and the hardness pressing into my thigh accompanied by the deep blush appearing on his cheeks let me know that he wasn't just a bumbling, teenage boy. He had needs, as shy as he was about them. My heart was pounding again, like it was going to just jump out of my chest. My hands slid down his covered chest, going under his red t-shirt to feel bare skin beneath. He didn't have an ounce of fat on him.

He pressed into me more urgently, breaking the kiss to let me catch my breath. I panted into his neck, completely ensconced in the tingling feeling that was spreading throughout my body. I felt like a teenager, concentrating on _tingles_, for God's sake, but it was hard not to. It broke my heart to be the voice of reason.

"Clark, we shouldn't be doing this," I breathed.

"You're right," he admitted, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear. "We should be in a relationship before we do anything."

This, coming from Clark Kent? Wow. I underestimated him. "Are you suggesting that we should become a couple?"

"Maybe." The blush returned. Ha. So there was my Clark.

"People will talk." I sat on the desk, intending to put some space between us, but he closed it quickly.

"Let 'em." I couldn't help but think that this was oddly uncharacteristic of Clark. I broke my gaze away from his intense stare to see that the red meteor rock on the corner of my desk was glowing. He turned my chin with his fingers to face him again, and he gave me another soft kiss. "I want to be with you, Lex. I want you to be mine."

"Are you okay?" I was wondering if he was on something, but then he ran his thumb over my lips and made me completely forget what I was contemplating.

"I'm better than okay. We're destined to be together."

Okay. Now he was scaring me. That bordered on crazy stalker attitude, and the way he was looking at me, devouring me with his gaze, made me nervous. In the past few minutes, I had become the prey and he the predator, the roles reversed. "You know, I'm not feeling very well."

"You're lying," he said rather assertively, his hand caressing my cheek. "You never get sick."

"And you're hiding something." Maybe in his odd mood, Clark would tell me his secret. I already knew part of it, but I wanted the trust. I wanted him to feel comfortable sharing his secret with me without the knowledge that I'd already found part of it out.

"You're not getting it that easily."

Damn. I didn't like this new Clark very much. But then again, that mischievous look in his eyes was intriguing, to say the least. "What makes you think I even want it?"

There was an almost dangerous look in his eyes before he leaned down, kissing and licking my neck in _all _the right spots. "You want it."

He put his weight on me, guiding me down to lay on the desk while he started a match of tonsil hockey with me. When I lost track of the score, he broke the kiss to remove his shirt, smirking when he saw my eyes graze over that golden expanse of muscles. He took the advantage to slide his hand up my shirt, untucking it and ripping it off, buttons flying everywhere.

"I _liked _this shir--mmph," I barely had time to get out before his lips smashed against mine, shutting me up. Suddenly, there was nothing separating us, both of us completely naked. "How?" I started, but I should've known better as he shut me up again, but I'd never liked being shut up so much in my life. The sex was great, albeit uncomfortable. The pleasure made me forget about my back until he carried me to my room, though it only took about two seconds for him to do so. It was amazing. Like he had lost everything that was weighing him down. It seemed impossible.

I thought it was a dream until I woke up to see Clark's sleeping form in my bed beside me. I was content for once, my responsibilities gone for the moment as I watched him wake up. He snorted the slightest bit before he started stretching and rubbing his eyes. Immediately when he opened them and saw me, they widened in shock, and the reaction struck fear into my heart. He was regretting it. Obviously. Even though he had been the aggressor. Damnit. I knew I shouldn't have let it happen, and his expression just confirmed it.

"Oh my God," he breathed, looking under the blanket to discover he had no clothes on. "Did we...?"

It was my turn to blush, though it was out of shame instead of his common reaction of embarrassment. "Yeah, Clark." I turned away from him, grabbing my robe and pulling it on so that he wouldn't see anything. Each touch to my own body was scalding, and I had to cover myself up, the shame coursing through me quickly.

The tension was thick and the silence was thicker between us as I changed into fresh clothes and he got dressed into the clothes he wore yesterday, not facing each other. My cheeks were hot and my eyes burned, but I had to remind myself that Luthors never cried.

Finally, it was he who broke the silence. "Did I use protection?"

He was worried about knocking me up. "Yes," I lied easily, having my whole life to master the skill. "You obviously weren't yourself. Let's just forget about this, okay? I don't care what you were on last night; just pretend like it never happened." Surprisingly, it nearly broke my heart to say those words. I had to be firm. Cold. Emotionless. The only one I had ever loved in my life was my mother, and this was why.

"Did I do anything..." He hesitated. "Odd?"

I knew he was talking about his powers. I decided to spare him again. "No."

He went like a ghost, as if he were never even there. If only that were the truth. It would be much easier for me to swallow. I went to a business meeting in the afternoon, though I was quite distracted, finding that it wasn't as easy to lose myself in work as before. Crap just wasn't as interesting when I had the mystery of Clark Kent on my mind.

My salvation and damnation that day came in the form of a tall, dark, and handsome man standing in my study, pouring himself a glass of wine from my personal collection. I was planning on drinking myself into a stupor after being so bored at the meeting and then driving at increasingly dangerous speeds to get here so I could drink myself under the table. I nearly dropped the papers I was carrying, lowering my sunglasses down my nose as I examined him.

"Victor." My tone contained surprise.

"Lex," Victor Hardwick responded, raising a glass to me and taking a drink. He had dark hair and tanned skin, not to mention cobalt blue eyes that stood out against all the darkness, two bright, mischievous pinpoints of light that told me he hadn't changed much. He was six-foot-one, shorter than Clark but still taller than me when I wasn't wearing my four-inch heels. Today, I was an inch taller than him. His body, well-hidden under a black dress shirt and suit pants, wasn't quite the art that Clark's was, though it was bulkier and more muscled. He could've been a model for how much he made the ladies swoon.

I wasn't swooning when I put the papers down on the couch, taking off my sunglasses, putting them on the papers, and rubbing the bridge of my nose. "Why are you here?"

"Still charming as ever, I see," he teased, tilting his head and letting the full richness of his British accent sink in. Another reason he was on the most eligible bachelor list. That and his family name was only second to the Luthors. Both of us had parents richer than God.

"I think I have a right to know why you're in my house uninvited." I wasn't in a forgiving mood as I went to the bar, snatching the bottle of wine from him and taking a small drink.

"Someone had a bad day." I could feel the intense scrutiny of his gaze scalding my body where it ventured.

"Which is none of your business," I snapped, taking a bigger drink.

"It is my business. I care about you, Lex." He was behind me before I could stop him, his fingers digging into my tense muscles. "You're stressed out. Let me help." His mouth was right next to my ear, which both tempted me and annoyed me to no end.

"You're never any help," I mumbled, gulping down more wine to deal with my day. As much as I hated to admit it, his hands felt good on my back and shoulders. He slipped my jacket from my shoulders, leaving me just in a tank top, a combination I'd been favoring lately because of Kansas heat. His fingers were like magic, another part of his appeal, but I'd seen him be a shark far too many times to think he'd changed.

"Tell me about your day," he crooned in my ear, reminding me to finish my wine off.

"What are you, my therapist?" Putting the bottle down, I looked back at him, finding half-closed eyes sensually looking back at me.

"Do you want me to be?" My muscles were melting more and more by the minute.

"Why are you here? The truth."

"I missed you, Lex. My father was pressuring me, and it reminded me that I haven't seen you in a long time."

"That was your fault, remember? You got into a fist-fight with my father."

"And he blackmailed me into staying away from you."

The statement made me turn, losing his massaging hands, instead looking shocked. "What?"

"He told me if I didn't stop dating you, he'd tell the world about my past. Our past. The body shots, the late nights in your room at boarding school."

I couldn't help but smile. "Good memories. Back then, nothing mattered except pissing our fathers off."

He ran his hand over my cheek. "Isn't that what matters now?"

"I'm not a teenager anymore." The look on my face was serious, even as he ran his hands over mine, playing with my fingertips. "I've grown up." As his teeth grazed the pad of one of my fingers, I looked down at him with a perked brow. "Have you?" Doubt laced my tone, even as I ran my other hand through his dark, spiky locks.

"No," he admitted with one of those oh-so-cute-and-tempting grins, perfect white teeth flashing up at me. Making me think of Clark.

His touch was suddenly sickening, and I pulled away from him, making my first good decision of the day. "I'm not interested in our little game, Victor. I'm too old to play around and debase myself for the sole reason of pissing off my father."

I could tell he was about to refuse my notion, but one of the servant's children walked into the room, carrying a tray. A nervous teenage boy was dressed in his best, focusing on not dropping the tray.

"Jeff. Where's your mom?" I asked, being polite. I knew that he had some kind of a crush on me, but he was a teenager. They were often fickle with their affections. Which also reminded me of Clark. This was going to be a long day if I couldn't go ten minutes without thinking of him.

"She's sick. I think it's the flu or something," he tried to say casually, only stuttering once. Upon seeing Victor, he straightened, and I could see something reminiscent of jealousy in his dark blue eyes.

"Have I introduced you to Victor?" I was trying to cool the waters, because Victor's glance was turning into a vicious glare.

"Not officially." His voice was flat, and he approached with the drinks, tipping the tray toward Victor and spilling white wine all over him. After Jeff picked up the glass, he exited quickly with the tray, leaving me to towel Victor off with some extras I kept near the bar.

"He clearly has a thing for you," he growled angrily, making me look up at him, my eyes glittering in amusement.

"What? Are you jealous?" My lips curled wryly into a smile, toying with the idea that Victor envied a fifteen-year-old boy.

As an answer, he pulled me up for a kiss, being hard and sensual and almost everything a girl could ever want. I knew he wasn't here just for this, but I was willing to ignore that, if only to lose myself in someone else without regret. My good decision turned into a bad one, and Victor Hardwick was in my bed and in my life once again.

Lionel stormed into my study two days later, obviously having received the news of who I was sharing my bed with. He slammed the door behind him, wearing his angry face as his Italian leather shoes clicked against the wooden floor.

Despite an odd incident that involved Victor's guest room being spray-painted and haunted, I was having a relatively good day, remembering to mask my expression in cold politeness as I looked up over my laptop.

"Dad. What a pleasant surprise," I lied in a flat tone, my laptop closing with a soft click.

"Are you trying to commit corporate suicide?" Lionel helped himself to my Scotch, aged perfectly and kept for special occasions. "What ever happened to family loyalty?"

"It died along with chivalry and disco." I noticed that he downed the entire tumbler of Scotch, perking a perfect eyebrow. "You don't trust me to protect our company?"

"Not from the Hardwicks, Lex," he snapped, stepping behind me and putting his hands on my shoulders. When strands of my hair brushed his fingers, he stiffened, backing away and going back to the bar. My lips pursed in irritation at his hatred of the reminder that I didn't have natural hair, the dark brown strands being a wig.

"I'm stronger than you think." I got up, walking across the room and opening the door. "I'm going to go join Victor in the bath." I couldn't help it; pissing him off was like some kind of genetic urge that was instilled in me and didn't go away no matter what my age was.

I didn't give him a chance to respond, going in the hallway and upstairs, seeing water puddling outside one of the doors. Fear went through me as I rushed to open it, finding Clark kneeling by a very naked and incapacitated Victor on the floor. "What happened?"

"You're not going to believe this," Clark said, shaking his head.

Half an hour later, Victor was being taken to Metropolis to be checked out by a hospital and staying there for his own safety while I was still trying to contemplate whether Smallville was really strange enough to harbor an invisible man.

"Well," I started hesitantly, taking a drink of white wine, "I'm inclined to believe anything can happen in this town." Since we were in my room, Clark was wandering around to look at my jewelry and artifacts I had on display, some of my favorites. I wasn't eager to remember that the last time he'd been in here, he'd been too intent on claiming me to admire the scenery, and it wasn't something I was going to remind him of.

"What was here?" he asked, holding up a red, velvet bracelet holder.

I was suddenly panic-stricken, searching everywhere in the room before I finally answered his question. "It was a silver bracelet that my Dad bought my Mom as a present when she was pregnant with me. When he was still supposedly capable of love." Where could I have left it? We visited five of my frequently-visited rooms, which included the study, the foyer, the library, the dining room, and my personal bathroom. Clark had been hesitant about coming with me, and he kept assuring me that it probably wasn't there to an almost paranormal frequency.

"Damnit, I have to find that watch." Tears stayed in my eyes, though they did draw a look of sympathy from Clark.

"Did any of your servants accidentally take it?" he suggested, looking out the window of my bedroom at the small cottage that was in the rear of the grounds.

"Maybe." I put on a coat, and we went outside and into the cottage, which was unlocked. I kept the lights off, not exactly wanting to alert any of the other servants to my presence here. I could feel Clark's trepidation, getting somewhat of a thrill out of doing this without anyone else's knowledge.

"Come on, Clark," I urged him as he started to hang behind, going into what I knew to be Jeff's room and looking around.

"Lex," Clark said from behind me, making me turn as he opened a small cabinet to reveal hundreds of pictures, all of me. My heart sank into my stomach when I realized that some were taken himself, and stashed in the back were pictures of me in the nude, sometimes with men, mostly alone. I didn't let Clark see them, as there was one of both of us sleeping together in the pile, tucking that one into my jacket's pocket.

He glanced at what was in my hand, immediately blushing and looking away. I put them back, knowing that it was nothing he hadn't seen before, but we were still in the process of ignoring that particular event. I opened a little compartment, seeing a stolen bottle of my perfume along with my bracelet. "That's five-hundred dollars a bottle," I said angrily, though I was more emotional about my bracelet than anything else.

"Why does sneaking in give you such a rush?" Clark asked nervously, and I could tell that he was trying to distract me, trying to make me feel better.

"Because you're somewhere you're not supposed to be," I answered with ease, leaning against him and brushing my lips against his to prove my point. "Everything that's forbidden gives you a rush."

When he blushed crimson in the darkness, I decided to let him be, leading him out of the cottage with the perfume and bracelet that Jeff had absconded with.

"What are you going to do?" he asked out of curiosity, his voice more even now that we were outside.

"Probably fire them and send them back to Metropolis. Get Jeff some psychiatric help." Was everyone named Jeff a creep? That name was starting to give me the chills every time I heard it. Still fresh in my mind was the date rape incident where Jeff Bridges, a business associate of my father's, tried to take advantage of me.

Clark read my contemplative look, and I had to start giving him credit for being more adept at it than he pretended to be. "It's not your fault, you know."

"What?" I asked, immediately defensive.

He stopped walking, his blue-green eyes glittering in the night with sympathy. "All of this. You carry so much guilt with everything that happens to you, but you shouldn't."

"I'm sure my father would disagree with you," I mused, but I realized that he was more serious than I'd first thought. He was suddenly closer, inches from me.

"I'm sorry for freaking out the other morning. I didn't mean to make you feel bad." His voice was nervous and his words nearly jumbled together, but I deciphered his apology and nodded.

"It's okay. You seriously don't remember anything?" I tried to make it sound like a genuine question of interest instead of a plea for him to recall just a moment of that night.

"No." I hid my expression of dismay, but he caught my chin softly when I wouldn't look at him, meeting my eyes. "I'm sorry I don't."

"Does this have anything to do with Victor?" I asked before he pulled me into a soft kiss, testing the waters and probing gently with his tongue.

When he pulled back, I felt his breath ghost on my lips, still being so close that I was tempted to take another kiss from him.

"Maybe," he answered honestly, surprisingly soft fingers stroking my cheek. "I was going to apologize to you yesterday, but...you and Victor were in the middle of something. It just made me..."

"Mad? Jealous?" I tried to sound like I wasn't thoroughly enjoying this, but I wasn't quite sure that I was pulling it off. I remembered an especially heated make-out session in the study, wincing at the thought of him witnessing that.

"Yeah. Both," he admitted shyly.

"Victor's only here temporarily." I was attempting to comfort him, but he suddenly looked ill. "Clark, are you alright?"

I felt something pressed to my neck, the familiar feeling of the blade of a knife lightly nicking my skin. I was clutched tightly to someone's body, held across the collarbone with the hand that wasn't holding the knife. Clark was looking sicker by the minute, the veins standing out in his face. In the dim moonlight, I could see them turning green, more focused on that than on my invisible captor.

"What do you want?" Clark asked weakly, falling to his knees. Something was seriously wrong here.

"Lex is coming with me."

"Jeff?" I asked with some degree of horror, my heart beat racing and betraying the fact that Luthors didn't feel fear. I recognized his voice immediately, and I could see Clark's face register surprise, also seeing fear shining in his eyes.

"I'm surprised you even remember my name. You were going to send me to a nut house? Fire my family? We need this!" he shouted right near my ear, making me jump and forcing the knife to nick my skin again. I realized that he'd been listening to our conversation, probably sneaking around invisible behind us.

"You need help, Jeff. Coming into my house invisible and taking pictures of me naked isn't exactly normal behavior." I tried to speak in that calm, pacifying voice, more to calm my own nerves than anything.

"I only did that to be closer to you!" Clark was down, sweating profusely, his skin the palest I've ever seen it. He was almost passed out, twitching every few seconds in pain.

"I'll come with you, Jeff." I didn't recognize my own voice, being more serene than ever, most likely because of how scared I was for Clark. "Where do you want to go?"

"Get on your cell phone. I want a helicopter here in five minutes. Don't try anything, Lex. I love your inventiveness, but now is not the time to get creative." I felt a puff of breath on my ear, followed by the slickness of a tongue.

"You have to let me go." Was my voice shaking?

"I know you have your cell phone in your pocket. Unless you want me to get it for you...," he threatened, and I swallowed hard.

"I can't talk with you grabbing me like this."

"You will, so I can hear every word. No code, either, or it'll get a lot worse."

I had a feeling that my glare was deadly as I flipped open my Razr, holding it to my left ear and feeling him breathe on my neck. Pressing pound and seven, I was connected to my head of security, who was out of town at the moment. Otherwise, this wouldn't have happened.

"Tom, I need a helicopter. Yes, now. Five minutes. No, I don't know where yet." He agreed, and she shut the phone, putting it back in her pocket. My glance down at Clark revealed him passed out, looking half-dead. "Please, we should get to the helipad. It's on the roof of the mansion." I heard the blades chopping the air from a distance, and luckily, Jeff heard it too. He looked down, spitting on Clark.

"He doesn't deserve you. Neither does that son of a bitch Victor. They don't realize how beautiful you are. How _precious _you are. Not even your dad realizes that."

"But you do, right?" I could get in trouble for this. But I _slept _with Clark, and he was Jeff's age. I was just saving myself and Clark at the same time. "You don't have to hurt me, Jeff. We can go to the helipad and get in the helicopter like two civilized people. You can even keep the knife."

He seemed to consider it before I felt relief, the weight coming off of my collarbone and the knife disappearing from my neck. I let out a breath, feeling him tug on my arm.

"Come on. The helicopter's here. Act natural." His tone was somewhat softer, and I resisted looking back at Clark while we were walking away. Going up a staircase built outside for just these reasons, we arrived to the deafening sound of the blades. I could still feel his hand on my arm, letting me know that he was still with me as I climbed in and sat down.

"Where to?" asked the pilot, and I waited patiently for the whispered answer in my ear.


	9. Trapped

**Disclaimer: **If I owned these characters, I would be rich.

**Rating: **Umm...NC-17 to be safe? No really explicit sexual acts in this chapter, but there's some violence near the end.

**Comments: **For anyone who hates Victor Hardwick, this is a good chapter to read.

**Trapped**

Jeff and I arrived at my penthouse in Chicago just when the sun rose, and from both my fear of heights and uneasiness with the invisible man pressing into me, I was feeling worn and hopeless, and I let it show. He would underestimate me if I looked tired, and my stubborn streak wouldn't allow me to submit. I had an advantage here, being on my territory, which Jeff was unfamiliar with.

My hand closed around the bottle of perfume still in my jacket pocket, and I closed my eyes for a moment of mental preparation. In order to get a lock on where he was, it would mean getting close to him. I had to use some of my inherited Luthorian charm without him being too suspicious. I realized a full minute had gone by since I'd felt or heard him, looking around for signs of his presence.

"Jeff?" I called out, my voice staying calm. When he didn't answer, I walked into the kitchen, knocking my fist softly against a cabinet. A secret drawer popped out, revealing a smooth, silver gun. Taking it in my left hand, I kept it ready as I turned the stove on, one burner clicking to life. Doing the same with the other four, I soaked towels in lighter fluid and let them catch on fire, watching the heavy smoke billow up to the ceiling.

I watched for variations in the smoke, looking for the shape of a human, but none came. The smoke alarm went off and the sprinklers turned on immediately. This time, Jeff came fully into view, his invisible form not being so invisible when the drops of water outlined exactly where he was. I aimed the gun at his heart, though I was hoping we could get out of this without bloodshed. I was tired of being victimized, and something inside me was aching to take action.

"Just give it up, Jeff. I know it's hard to be in an unrequited relationship, but you can't force it on someone." I faintly heard sirens outside.

"I'm the only one who understands you!" A flash of silver let me know that he'd picked up the butcher's knife from the set on the other side of the kitchen. "If I can't have you, no one can!" he shouted before he lunged.

I got panicked, something that rarely happened to me, and I felt my fingers squeeze, not pull, the trigger. The force of the shot sent him backwards, dark blood pouring over him for a few moments before it was diluted by the water of the sprinklers. He was on the ground, eyes closed, chest stilled, and the full force of what I'd done hit me like a ton of bricks.

I killed a teenaged boy. That was all that went through my mind when the police kicked in the door, telling me to drop my gun with Lionel coming from the back. I put it on the counter, and Lionel pulled me away from the scene and outside. The sprinklers had stopped, though I hadn't noticed.

"You're soaked, Lex. There's a blanket in the helicopter. Come on," Lionel guided, taking me into the helicopter and sitting me down while Victor Hardwick wrapped a thick, wool blanket around me.

"She's bleeding," Victor informed Lionel, and I looked down to see that he was right. A fair amount of blood was leaking from the left side of my stomach. I didn't even realize that Jeff had stabbed me, probably because of the shock. It didn't hurt.

"Lex, you need to get to a hospital, honey," Lionel said in a sweet but urgent voice, and I knew he was more worried about losing his heiress than actually losing me to death.

"I'm fine. I just want to go home," I protested.

We compromised. Lionel brought a doctor along for the ride, and I spent the rest of it being stitched up. I didn't really notice, too out-of-it because of the Vicodin the paramedic administered. I fell asleep for the rest of the trip.

When I woke up, it was dark. I was curled up on a hard mass of muscle, knowing that it was Victor by touch and familiarity. How cute. He was pretending to care. The blue-green numbers on my digital clock told me that it was three in the morning. I got up without waking the man asleep in my bed, knowing that he was a heavy sleeper. In the dark, I stumbled around until I figured out which of my houses I was in, grabbing some jeans from the closet and knowing that I hadn't been here in a long while. My stomach was bandaged, and I reminded myself to grab a shirt as well. I was solely in a black bra and panties.

That bastard had undressed me. Presumptuous son of a bitch. My head was slightly spinning from walking around, so I paused for a few seconds to gather my wits. I was somewhere in the hallway, but I wasn't exactly sure where. Pulling my jeans on clumsily, I did the same with the silky shirt, though I left it unbuttoned for fear of matching the wrong button to the wrong hole. Even in the dark, all by myself, I was still acting like a Luthor.

I snorted softly, continuing on and finding a light switch. I was overjoyed by the sudden light that flooded the room, but my sleepy eyes were not. It took a few blinks for the furniture to materialize. Lionel had left me in his penthouse in Metropolis, probably so he could keep an eye on me. I was beginning to grow wary of Smallville as well, but there was one warm memory that made me ache to go back. Damn that not-so-innocent farm boy. I sighed.

There were times when I preferred Victor's simplicity to Clark's complexity. I knew how to pacify Victor, knew that he was only in it to run my father's company into the ground for his father, and I could read him easily. Clark was something else entirely. I felt guilty when I hurt him, when I spied on him. I felt no guilt in destroying Victor's intentions. Victor enjoyed it hard and fast, and Clark...I wasn't sure. I had a feeling that if I'd slept with Clark when he wasn't under the influence, it would be soft and passionate. Nothing at all like Victor. While part of me turned the notion away, the other yearned for it, and I never felt so divided.

Now that I saw myself in the light, I noticed that my shirt was black. This was the penthouse I spent most of my days clubbing from when I was a teenager. Bad memories. Some of the memories weren't even there, when I was too smashed and drugged to remember. But I would always feel the familiar ache between my thighs and know exactly what happened. Lionel tried his hardest to shelter me, to protect me, even to this day, but it always resulted in my rebellion.

I felt some modicum of insanity brewing coffee for myself at three in the morning, but my headache was becoming increasingly difficult to cope with. While waiting for my life source, I let my mind wander back to Clark. I imagined what it would be like if he were more forward, even though the shyness was part of his appeal. I almost felt his strong, broad hands wrapping around my bare waist, pushing my shirt to the side and leaning down to kiss me. Those full lips were deceptively soft when the rest of him was so strong, and my nerves started to tingle with want before the coffee beeped rudely at me and destroyed my fantasy.

With nothing but the brute in the penthouse, I felt oddly alone as I poured my coffee, not adding anything to it and drinking the strong brew. I felt the headache start to recede after two hot gulps, exhaling in relief. I heard a creak to the left of me, nearly flinching when I saw that Victor had been awakened during my small reverie. He brightened upon seeing me, albeit groggily, and I would've applauded his performance and given him an Academy Award were I not protecting my cover as well. Instead, I returned his smile and went to him, leaning up to kiss him softly.

"Hey," I offered in a greeting after the chaste kiss was finished, and it was Victor's rough hands that wrapped around my bare waist this time.

"Hey, sexy," he responded, drawing me closer and into a long, hard kiss. Did Victor know the meaning of slow or sensual? No, he always had sex and ambition on the brain, quite like I used to before I grew a conscience in the form of a flannel-clad farm boy. He looked almost startled when I pulled away, starting to button up my shirt.

He sighed in exasperation. "What's wrong? Are you in one of your moods?"

The mention of "my moods" did nothing to help my temper, squaring my jaw and debating whether to tell him how useless he was. "Can't you ever think of anything but sex?"

He chuckled with that infuriating grin of his, all arrogance and cockiness. "Power. Come on, Lex. You know me. I may not be all romantic and shit, but you're addicted to me." His smug smile was punctuated by his hands reaching for my hips, trying to pull me in for another kiss to convince me to forgive him. I backed off, glaring at him with glacial eyes.

"Am I? I could easily live without you. I can tell when I'm being used." My tone was just about as icy as my eyes were. His expression quickly darkened.

"I'm not using you, baby," he chuckled darkly, nearing me. "In fact, I'm all done using you. Cadmus Labs is ours now, and so is the majority of Luthorcorp's shares. We don't need your half anymore." He backed me into a corner, his eyes looking almost black and terrifying. Even though my heart was pounding, I challenged him with my smirk. His arms were on either side of me, palms flat on the counter.

"Too bad that Cadmus Labs is worthless." I saw a flash of anger in his eyes, but I wasn't going to let him intimidate me. "I knew you were spying through my computer. I altered the statistics quite a bit. You own less than half of one percent of Luthorcorp's stock. Sorry, _baby_." His lip was quivering, his muscles tensed. I knew it was all he could do to refrain from hitting me.

"You're telling me...all of it...is worthless?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Would I lie to you, Hardwick?" In a flash, he lifted me by my throat, not that I wasn't expecting it. My air supply was suddenly cut off, but it would soon be remedied.

"You fucking bitch!" he shouted, and I gave him a few seconds before I cocked the gun in my hand. He looked down in surprise, finding it aimed at his groin. He glared back up at me, but he didn't loosen his grip.

"Let..go," I wheezed, not letting my weakness show in my eyes. I was getting dizzy, and the room was starting to spin, but I let none of that show through years of practice.

He finally regained some sense and let go. I didn't take time to cough, simply gasping in air as I kept the gun exactly where he didn't want it.

"If you want to ever have an heir, you'll get the fuck out of my penthouse and never see me again."

He shook his head, giving me a dangerous smile. "We could've been great together, Lex." My hand shook when he whispered into my ear, but my grip was unwavering. "Remember what you're throwing away. My father and I could protect you from Lionel. We could bring him down, just the two of us. Don't you want to see your father brought to his knees?"

It was time to fight fire with fire. I never understood that fucking phrase, but it was great for this situation. "I plan on being great all by myself," I whispered back, dropping my voice an octave so that it was smooth and saccharine. "Now get the fuck out before you make a mess out of my kitchen."

He finally backed off, and I raised the gun to point it at his forehead. "You're making a mistake, baby. Just remember this when you come begging on my doorstep in a few years. I _might _let you suck my cock for an even fifty."

The gun was lowered and a sudden shot resounded throughout the large penthouse as his knee was blown open, blood flying everywhere in a five foot radius. Oops. Did I do that? Oh well. The bastard deserved it. "Fucking prick," I muttered under my breath, picking up the phone and dialing 911.

He was a prick, but that didn't mean he deserved to die without suffering the massive pain of failure first.


	10. Manipulation

**Disclaimer: **If I owned these characters, I would be rich.

**Rating: **M-ish. One overt sexual act in this chapter, but it's taaame.

**Comments: **Lex takes a break from Smallville and returns to Metropolis for a week.

**Manipulation**

The police didn't believe my story when I told them that I thought Victor was a burglar. Luckily, they were Metropolis P.D., and the rumor that my father had them in his pocket wasn't just a rumor. Not to say that I didn't get lectured for it. After Dad removed me from the penthouse so the staff could get to work on cleaning up the blood staining the carpet and tile, he was silent the entire ten minutes it took to drive to his penthouse.

My mother left the other penthouse specifically to me in her will as part of my inheritance. It was a blessed occurrence to have somewhere that Dad wouldn't bother me most days during my college years. Now, it was rarely used. The castle in Smallville was my home. Life in the city seemed less desirable, though I wasn't sure when the hell that happened. True, Metropolis was away from meteor-enhanced mutants and prejudiced farmers alike, but it was also away from Clark Kent.

I was kidding myself if I thought that my attraction to him didn't go past friendship. Despite that difficult admission, he was still a teenager, and he would find a new crush soon enough. I just had a crush. It would fade, and I would go back to dating careless jerks like Victor Hardwick. I was sure that Dad would be happy when I did. He was still trying to pair me off with the most available, most successful bachelors of Metropolis's high society.

It was only when I was sitting on the smooth leather of his black couch in the living room before he finally looked at me. Deep brown, almost black eyes searched mine with a darker purpose in mind compared to the blank stare I returned. He seemed to fidget for a moment, which was a rare thing with him, before taking a seat next to me and taking my hand in his. My eyes went wide with surprise at the physical contact, a bigger gesture than what I was prepared for.

"Lex," he said before pausing, his lips pursed in thought for that moment of hesitation. "I'm worried about you." His tone was soft, fatherly, and it was enough to mess with my equilibrium. He hadn't sounded like this since before my mother died, and even then, genuine affection was a precious thing to behold. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him why, to be defensive, but as soon as my lips parted, he silenced me with a stern look. "First, the business with that young boy who could turn invisible. Now, nearly killing Victor Hardwick out of anger."

"You're being unreasonable. Jeff Palmer was trying to kill me. It was self defense. I shot Victor in the _knee_, not in the head." In all the fuss, I didn't realize that I had gotten up. Instinct sent me to the hidden mini-bar, but to my dismay, all I found was Ty Nant. With a grimace, I grabbed the blue bottle and opened the water before taking a large gulp of the cool liquid.

"That doesn't change the fact that you purposely shot Victor. As much as I don't like the Hardwick family, your intentions were malicious." His eyes glittered with disapproval. "I will not have my daughter in prison for homicide."

I thought carefully on the way back to my seat. It was entirely too late or early, depending on which way one looked at it, to be having a meaningful conversation. Fatigue was tugging at my eyelids, and I was trying my hardest not to yawn. "It hasn't exactly been easy for me lately. I seem to be a target for meteor freaks."

"I know that your temper is short, but you can't let it get out of hand. A Luthor always uses the situation to their advantage, no matter how difficult." He ran his fingernails through one side of his goatee, which was as close to a nervous tic as he could get. "You mustn't show weakness. You should also try and keep a clear mind at all times," he emphasized, and I fought the urge to wrinkle my nose at him.

"I drink a reasonable amount of alcohol for my age," I retorted.

"You should cut back." He reached for a manila envelope on the glass coffee table in front of us. "I see I need to reiterate my policy on the Kent boy," he chided as he removed full-color photos from it and gave them to me.

My cheeks flared pink as I saw high-quality images of me and Clark in action. I was still trying to trace the origin of just where his erratic behavior came from, but for the most part, it had been far from my mind. I was almost tempted to ask for copies. It would have been heat instead of embarrassment flooding me were it not for my father presenting me with these pictures and displaying the very real fact that I had slept with a minor.

Finally, the question eked out of me. "Where did you get these?" My voice was surprisingly even, but I couldn't look at him. I knew that he was glaring at me and trying to achieve eye contact, but my humility prevented it.

"I have my sources. I don't want this to happen again. No heir of mine will be labeled a pedophile," he spat before standing up and throwing the pictures in the fireplace. With the flick of a switch, the gas flame came to life and burned away the evidence of my grave error.

It was then when I finally looked up in one of my weaker moments, and I had no choice but to allow the emotions to shine through my eyes. With a deep reluctance, I whispered my apology. "I'm sorry, Daddy."

The fury in his eyes went soft, and he strode over to me to gently stroke the skin of my cheek. I suspected that had I been born a son instead of a daughter, this particular tactic wouldn't work with him. But a repentant female was a weakness of his, and it was one of the only ways that I knew he still loved me. Down in that dark, somewhat twisted heart of his was actual love. It was an optimistic thought, something I was usually wary about allowing myself, but there were signs that it was there.

"Does he remember anything?" he asked softly before removing his hand from my cheek and putting his hands in his pockets.

"I don't think so." It was true that he remembered waking up in bed with me, but I wouldn't endanger Clark in that way.

"Good. Let's keep it that way." He appeared pensive for a moment, and I saw a sudden gleam in his eyes. That was _not _a good sign. "Did he use protection?"

He always could tell when I was lying. A moment's hesitation gave him the answer he needed.

"Goddamnit, Lex," he swore while clenching his fists tightly. He was rarely physical with his anger, never forthcoming with it either, but family honor was everything to him. His legacy would not have a bastard child in it. "I thought you were more intelligent than this. I want you on birth control immediately so this kind of disgrace won't happen."

"A child is a disgrace?" The words slipped unbidden from my mouth. I had no intention of having children in the near future and ruining my professional life. Why was I protesting this?

"If born under the wrong conditions, yes. How long has it been?" As if he didn't know. Those pictures had to be dated.

"Three days." It wasn't nearly long enough to do anything about it, and the possibility was gnawing at my stomach already. I didn't think it would happen, but Dad's concern over it made it nerve-wracking.

He scoffed. "It's far too early to test for anything. I'll discreetly hire a private doctor who will examine you after six weeks. Call me if you have any symptoms." He grabbed at his beard and gave a small sigh.

"And if I do?" I was exhausted and anxious at the same time, but the pang of guilt in me forced the questions from me. "If I am pregnant?" The thought sent shockwaves through my mind and provoked violently negative reactions from my subconscious. I was supposed to rule Luthorcorp when Dad was gone. Destiny placed me as the first female president of the United States. Nothing would get in the way of my ambition. Yet the sliver of a conscience in me wouldn't allow me to throw away a life if it was indeed there.

"There's no point in discussing something that may not even happen. You're tired from all the excitement." His hand drifted to my shoulder and squeezed lightly.

"What happened to preparing for every eventuality?" It was juvenile to toss my father's words back in his face, but the youth in me couldn't help it.

"I am prepared for either possibility, darling. You are not." He gave me one last glance before heading down the hall and retreating to the master bedroom. All the doors in the house were closed, but I found my room easily. This was where I lived for most of my teen years when I came home from different boarding schools around the country.

It was decorated in black and purple, just how I left it. However, there was a lack of the posters I had pinned up on the walls during the angry part of my youth. Most of them were bands from the hard rock era that were outdated now. The CD player that used to play music especially loud just to annoy Dad was long gone, but that didn't surprise me. Everything that made the room mine wasn't there anymore, and the irony made me smile humorlessly.

I undressed and slipped under silk sheets of the finest quality. Finally, I was able to relax and allow myself to sleep. The tension seeped away through the king sized mattress and the pillow filled with the softest down. If I had dreams, they were tame enough that I didn't remember them.

In the morning, I woke up to fresh clothes and the smell of coffee. After putting on the emerald blouse and black pants, I ventured out of my old room and into the kitchen to be greeted by the sight of the cook, Adele. She smiled at me and wrapped me up in a large hug. She was the cook when I was younger too, and she had often fixed me a snack or took care of me when I stumbled home drunk or drugged.

Adele came here from France to work and get money for her daughter's education. She always said that I reminded her of her offspring, but inside I doubted that she was as messed up as I was. She poured me a cup of coffee, and I swallowed the hot liquid like it was the last drop of water on Earth.

"Your father said that you will stay here to rest for the next week." Before I could protest, she held up her hand to stop me. "Your laptop is in the office. Your video games from the castle are in the entertainment room, but I was only supposed to use that as a last resort to convince you to stay."

When I spent the next four hours kicking ass in Grand Theft Auto 3, I found myself wondering if Clark was any good at video games. God, I was behaving like an obsessive ex. I abandoned my video games in favor of work after that. I delegated most of my responsibilities to Gabe Sullivan via cell phone. He was a bright man, and I made a note to myself to promote him when an opportunity opened up.

I crunched numbers for what seemed like minutes. To say that I had a passion for math and science was an understatement. I had studied at Metropolis University to be a biochemist, but I got kicked out for my extracurricular activities. Even so, I was one of the best. The professor of Molecular Science actually cried when I told him I was being expelled. The truth was, I had been helping him in more than one way, whether it was helping him with his research or giving him a blow job after-hours.

I used my looks to my advantage all the time in college and even earlier than that. Whether it was snagging a man for a night of pleasure or pleasing one temporarily to boost my grades, the Luthor charm was in my blood. There was no doubt that I held myself on a tighter leash now that I was starting to take my career as a business tycoon seriously, but I slipped twice. Clark and Victor. I needed to improve my track record.

I was sitting on the office floor with papers spread around me when Dad got home. He didn't make an effort to sneak in. Instead, he simply announced his presence with the sound of Italian shoes on the wooden floor. At his arrival, I looked at the clock for the first time since I began working and realized that it had been hours instead of what I thought was minutes. I gave a wry smile when I looked up at him, and he leaned down to kiss me on the forehead.

This much physical affection with my father was unusual, but I soaked it all up like the proverbial sponge. I gathered the papers together and closed my laptop after locking the screen.

"You aren't worried that I'll read through the plant's information and see how you're doing?" His tone was curious, because my paranoia was usually constant.

"No. If you wanted to read them, you would have done it already. Either it's not important or you've already seen them all anyway." He was the one who lifted them from my castle, after all. I gave myself a mental reminder that I needed to increase security.

"Touché." I noticed that he was still wearing his overcoat, which was made of black leather and swept around him. "How long have you been working?" A touch of concern seeped into his voice.

"A few hours. Don't worry, I played video games earlier like the lazy heiress I am," I joked, and I was sure I glowed when he smiled. After all these years of stilted conversations and minimal affection, my mind was starved for attention. It was almost pathetic.

"I'm having dinner with a few business associates. Would you like to come along?" He wasn't being dishonest with me. I had no idea whether his intentions were honorable. His facial expression was plain, open, and a touch impatient.

"None of them are going to drug me, are they?" The sarcasm coated the air between us, and my mouth twitched downward into a frown as I thought of the month's events.

"Of course not," Dad scoffed before smoothing his hair with his hands. His fingernails were perfectly trimmed. In my adolescence, I caught him getting a manicure, and it remained a jubilant memory when I was angry with him. He still wouldn't admit that he got one every two weeks. "It's just a deal I need to open with Wayne Enterprises."

Half an hour later, I was in a grey silk dress that was classy while still leaving little to the imagination. It was Dad's gift to me for all the stress I've been going through. At least, that was what he told me. The halter-style top wrapped around my neck and framed my breasts. The dress was backless and went to daring lows before it ended. It was tight around the hips, but it flared out and flowed around my heeled sandals.

The rich auburn strands of my wig were pulled into patterns of small circles while curled tendrils were left to dangle on my neck. It was dotted with crystalline gems. Dad demanded that I go all out, even though this was supposedly just a business meeting. The smoky grey eye shadow brought out the blue in my eyes, and Dad claimed that he was just using me as a distraction.

We arrived at Metropolis's most exclusive restaurant after ten minutes in the limousine. Circe was home to anyone who had an exorbitant amount of money, and the red carpet leading to the entrance was littered with photographers and reporters. My upper lip curled into a snarl at the reminder of just why I was so strongly opposed to paparazzi.

"Smile, dear," Dad reminded me as he stepped out of the limo and then turned to help me out. I put on my phony smile that looked so real even the most skeptical reporters bought it, and why shouldn't they? I'm Lex Luthor. The world should believe exactly what I tell them. I stepped out with the grace that came with being a Luthor and pretended to be modest for the cameras as male reporters wolf whistled.

As soon as we were inside and away from the press, my smile turned into gritted teeth, and I tried to hide a dangerous flash in my eyes as my lips pursed. Obviously, I hadn't been doing a very good job of it, because the host braced himself for hostility. Instead, he received a pleasant and easy smile from Lionel as he requested to be seated with the Wayne party. The man gave a relieved smile and slid two thin menus into one hand while guiding our way with the other.

"This way, please." We were led through secluded dining rooms with little more than two separate parties a section, all dimly lit and very private. Circe prided itself on its atmosphere, and there was no doubt why. The rooms were all decorated in warm colors ranging from dark burgundy to bright crimson. It had a seductive allure to it. The maître d' led us to the section in the very back, where there was only one party waiting.

There were two men sitting at the table, both easily recognized in my business-driven mind. One was nervously looking at his watch to check and see that yes, we _were _ten minutes late. Luthors were never kept waiting; we were waited on, whether we chose to be five minutes or five hours late. This man had an annoying quirk of smirking and frowning in the same gesture, which formed at least four ripples in his cheek that were the effects of a single dimple.

He was finicky, and his eyes went in ten different directions before they finally landed on my father and me. He gave a false smile and extended a hand to my father. "William Earle," he said by way of introduction. His dull blonde hair was set in an all-business manner, and his wire-rimmed glasses made his head look rather large. His black eyes twinkled at my father. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Luthor." He made the cardinal error of not standing when he shook my father's hand, and I could see Lionel's frown from the corner of my eye.

The other man was quite attractive. Bruce Wayne had been the _Metro_'s Bachelor of the Year for five years running, and this was my first chance in person to see why. Stunning blue eyes locked on me immediately, and I couldn't look away if I wanted to. His black hair was slicked back. His chiseled features were emphasized, and before I could digest his appearance, he brought my hand to his lips and laid a soft kiss on my knuckles. His eyes were still on mine, still as intense as the first moment. He kept my hand in his when he introduced himself.

"Bruce Wayne. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Luthor." He lightly squeezed my hand before letting it go.

"Please, call me Lex," I responded automatically, though my voice was a little breathier than I remembered it ever being.

He gave a slight bow through an inclination of his head before turning to my father. "Mr. Luthor. It's nice to finally meet the man behind the company."

Within a few seconds, everyone was seated, and I pretended that I wasn't watching Wayne from under my eyelashes. I barely heard the business ramblings of my father and Mr. Earle. I'd learned long ago to tune out my father, and Earle's voice was monotonous. I knew that I should be paying attention to refine my negotiation skills, but I couldn't keep my eyes off of tall, dark, and handsome. He seemed to resonate a certain arrogance, but beyond that was something deeper.

I finally gave the items on the menu some consideration in both practicality and strategy. Plainly ignoring him would incite that arrogance of his, and the male in him would come after me. At least, that was how it was supposed to work.

The Dom Pérignon came a few minutes later. Lionel and Earle were now in heated discussion over the contract's terms. Earle was only Wayne's guide. Bruce was the real CEO of the company, but it was a well-known fact that he put a lot of faith into his right-hand man. I took a cautious sip of the sparkling wine and surveyed the situation, which seemed to have reached its boiling point. Earle threw down his napkin and cursed before leaving the table in a huff and claiming that Lionel was stubborn and impossible to work with.

Dad seemed the slightest bit flustered, but he hid it well even as he swallowed an entire glass of wine in one gulp. Wayne seemed to pick up the undercurrent of anger in the air and straightened his tie on his all-black suit. My father was wearing the standard tuxedo, though it had been tailored to fit every curve on his body. Wayne's dark silk shirt seemed to do wonders for him and only added to the mystery of the suave billionaire.

"I apologize for Mr. Earle," he said in a smooth voice while casually eyeing the menu. "He's had a rough week."

My instinct told me that Wayne had been the cause of that dissention. The server, a woman dressed in all red, came to our table and politely inquired about our orders. Dad ordered foie gras. Bruce had a filet mignon with asparagus. I ordered a simple risotto. Despite my father's grandiose taste, I rarely ate large meals and mostly picked at food like a bird. Occasionally, I forgot to eat, and the staff had to remind me.

Wayne and Lionel had been talking about different businesses and their reputations for five minutes before Bruce's glittering eyes shifted to me.

"Are you bored by business conversations, _Lex_?" The way he said my name, his silky voice emphasizing each letter, let me know that he was living up to his playboy reputation. Then again, the paparazzi considered me to be in the same class because of how many relationships I've gone through and how quickly they've ended.

"Hardly." I traced a finger innocently around the rim of my glass full of the most expensive wine on the planet. "I just don't like bringing business to the dinner table."

Lionel shot me a disapproving glance, while Bruce simply folded his hands together and gave a small nod of approbation.

"An admirable virtue. Yes, I agree, why don't we leave business where it belongs?" he suggested in that smooth voice. I understood why he was so good at negotiation. Dad looked startled, but he quickly recovered his ground.

"Absolutely. After all, that kind of thing can be resolved in a meeting." It was a Luthor trait to slip in opportunity in the guise of reluctant acceptance.

Bruce never broke eye contact with me, and he easily brushed off my father's words. "Where are you living? Metropolis?"

I tried to calm the teenage girl in me and slow the rushing beat of my heart. He had to be interested, but wasn't there enough drama in my life without adding another boyfriend into the mix? "For the week, I'm staying at my father's penthouse in Metropolis. After that, I'm going back to Smallville to run one of Luthorcorp's plants."

A sly smirk crossed Bruce's features as his eyes shone in amusement. "Smallville? I was under the impression that you were strictly an urbanite."

"Lex is the head of my plant based there. It's been sucking funds from the corporation, so it's Lex's job to turn it into a profit." My inner self cringed at Lionel's interruption, but Bruce didn't seem to pay him any attention.

"It's my test before Dad lets me into corporate. Maybe after I prove myself, he'll step down and let me take over as CEO." I gave Bruce a small wink. There was no doubt that Lionel would get riled up at my admission of truth. Bruce got the message and gave me a small smile in return as he shifted his eyes to take in Lionel's reaction.

"You act as if it's impossible, Lex," Lionel scoffed. "I'm only ensuring that you're competent enough to handle being the only female CEO of a major company. Other leaders will see you and laugh, because they'll think that you're weak."

"I don't know, Mr. Luthor." There was another hint of something deeper in Bruce's eyes. "Even at a glance, Lex promotes a strong presence. She seems very self-assured to me."

Before Dad could sputter out a response, our server returned with our dinner. Each plate was given to its respective owner, our glasses were refilled, and Lionel's jaw was squared. I hid a small smile at his flustered state and began to eat.

Despite the interruption, Lionel attempted to regain his composure. "I'm not saying that she isn't a strong, independent woman. I'm just saying that some people may not see her that way."

"You mean, people won't take me seriously." The mere thought made my blood boil. I would be ruthless if I had to, but I would gain respect from _everyone_.

"Exactly. Some men can't see beyond gender." Lionel seemed satisfied, but I saw Bruce's lips twist in consideration.

"I'm sure Lex will be persuasive enough to convince them. As a matter of fact, why don't you let her handle this negotiation?"

I was two seconds from letting my jaw drop, but I kept my mouth closed despite the shock. I heard an audible click from my father's teeth as his mouth shut. His teeth were still bared, and his facial expression worried me for a moment.

His proposal was unexpected, and there was no way Dad could take that blow to his pride. I saw him straighten his tie as he cleared his throat. The answer was clear.

"Despite her numerous skills, Lex isn't ready for this level of negotiation." My father's perfect elocution seemed halted and insincere. My heart fell at the thought that perhaps my father wasn't going to let me advance after all, but I refused to let that kind of insecurity show on my face.

Bruce caught it. As he read the emotions that I'd worked so hard to hide, I felt my own frustration towards the seemingly perfect man rise. Who was he to demand my company when I was supposed to be resting from my hectic life? I was lucky that I wasn't insane at this rate. The man seemed harmless enough, but I was tired of wolves dressed in wool.

"You misunderstand me, Mr. Luthor." His tone grew serious instead of teasing. "Unless Lex takes over negotiations, there will be no deal. Wayne Enterprises will withdraw its offer, and we won't do business with Luthorcorp at all."

"This is ridiculous. You're refusing his offer because you want a date?" I switched from calm, cool, and collected to outraged within a few seconds.

"Lex, calm down." Surprisingly, it was my father who laid a hand on my shoulder to attempt to calm me. "Mr. Wayne, I assure you that if you attempt to harm my daughter in any way, your death will be swift and precise."

"I don't plan on harming her, Mr. Luthor." Wayne gently patted a cloth napkin across his lips and dropped it to his plate. "My intentions are to teach your daughter a thing or two about contract negotiation. She can back out at any time."

Contract negotiation, my ass. I huffed quietly. He didn't seem the type who would outright attack me if I didn't submit to his charms, but the fact that he was striking this deal in the first place showed that he had a darker side. I threw a speculative glance at my father, and I immediately knew that he would accept the offer.

"I don't have a choice in this?" To his credit, he had Lionel Luthor backed into a corner. Few ever got to experience winning against a Luthor.

"You do. You can easily walk away, and I'll just drop the contract." Damnit. Even rarer, he had both Luthors trapped. I'd be damned if I was going to play the pleasant escort for him. I would do what the Luthor instinct in me told me to do. I would torture him so much that he would no longer be able to stand my company. If he wanted a pissed-off Luthor, he would certainly get one.

"Fine. I'll do it." It was a challenge, and challenges were something I didn't take lightly. The competition was easily underway. The entire dinner had been a game of subtle manipulation and a chance for Wayne to see if Lionel Luthor was worthy of this contract. Somewhere in-between, his focus had shifted from Dad to me.

Lionel cleared his throat and gave a smile that was too smooth to be natural. He was nervous. He obviously thought that I would lose this contract for him, that I would ruin it. He was halfway right. "It's settled, then. Lex will continue negotiations in my place."

"Our business is concluded. I'll contact you with the details." The suave businessman reached for his wallet as he stood, but I wasn't about to let him end this with the advantage.

"Please, Mr. Wayne. Allow me." Even though my tone was casual, I knew exactly what I was doing when I stood and lifted the long hem of my dress. In the process, almost all of my bare leg was exposed before my fingers slipped money from my lace garter. I watched my father sneak a smile behind the palm of his hand as Wayne's eyes followed my every movement. The intense blues returned to my face after I put a suitable amount on the table.

I simply raised an eyebrow at him before turning away and letting my dress sweep back to my ankles. I set a hand on my father's shoulder as a signal that it was time to go, and he complied.

"It's a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Wayne," my father added. Wayne wasn't shocked enough to miss that he was supposed to shake my father's hand, at least. Dad was always good at rubbing salt in the wounds. We exited the restaurant and left Wayne behind.

I let out a sigh of relief when we got in the limo. After he ordered the chauffeur to take us home, Lionel threw a serious glance at me. I returned it with a level gaze.

"I hope you know what you're getting into, Lex. If you lose that contract, I will be extremely disappointed in you." Lionel was using his best lecturing voice, but I was too out-of-it to care.

"I do." I allowed myself a small smile. "He doesn't." When Lionel opened his mouth to protest, I silenced him. "I won't lose the contract. If there's anything I know how to do, it's this."

To his credit, Dad only nodded and gazed out the window.


	11. Punished for Weakness

**Warning: Some scenes in this chapter might disturb sensitive people**. A lot of Lex's past is revealed, including why she hasn't been successful in relationships.

When I received the weekly profit report for the Smallville plant the next morning, I was not happy. It took a moment for the shock to subside as I finally absorbed what was happening and why, but when I did, my temper flared. I knew that my father was behind this. I fought not to tear the papers in my tensed fingers and took a moment to breathe. The effect was somewhat calming after a minute, and the urge to smash that ugly vase in the foyer of the penthouse was gradually fading.

This was another test. Deep inside me, I knew that Lionel would always test me, and I would never live up to his expectations. I needed to be stronger than this. The plummeting numbers spelled disaster for my future as an executive at the top levels of Luthorcorp. Directly after I showered and dressed in casual clothing, I picked up my cell phone and called Gabe Sullivan. He'd been in charge for the last few days, and I needed to know what was going on.

"Gabe Sullivan speaking." By his tone, he knew that he was in trouble. I couldn't keep the tension out of my voice.

"I take it you've seen the profit report this morning?" I plopped down into my father's office chair and tried to remember that Gabe Sullivan was a good man, and he wasn't the one I was angry with.

"Ah. Yes." He was quick to cover up his uncertainty. "But I have ideas on how we can improve our sales."

"How did our sales drop in the first place?" I held the phone to my ear with my shoulder as I opened my father's drawers and rooted through the papers I found. "I know my father had something to do with it."

"Jackson's Best is outselling us. From what I can gather, they received a rather large grant recently and have expanded their business. They've got cheaper prices and claim they've got better soil." My eyes scanned through the important words on my dad's reports as I listened to Gabe's explanation. Damnit, Lionel. He wasn't supposed to get directly involved, but he was obviously desperate if he was playing dirty. I was on the verge of winning; I could feel it in my bones.

I found chemical formulas that fit a new type of soil. I looked over them, and it only took a moment to memorize them. "I found what they're using, Gabe. I'll call you with a better formula than theirs tonight. I just need a little time."

"Alright, Miss Luthor. Work your magic. I'll be waiting for your miracle formula." There was small, haphazard scribbling in the corner that I had to squint to read.

"How many times have I told you, Mr. Sullivan? It's Lex." My father wrote in even more cramped handwriting than mine. Was it some note about the soil?

"How many times have I told you to call me Gabe?" I couldn't help but smile. None of my other employees had the gall to talk to me like that, but that's what made him special.

"Point taken. I'll speak with you later." I flipped the phone shut and used my full effort to decipher my father's note. When I finally realized what it said, I scowled.

_Lex - You'll have to work harder than that for the new formula. Anticipate your enemy's moves. - LL_

He was really trying my patience. Not only was he stepping outside the rules of the game, but he was gloating about it. It was time to do something big. This new formula had to be revolutionary.

I asked Adele to get me plenty of paper and a few pencils. She brought that as well as a cup of coffee from Starbucks. The caffeine boost helped, and I got to work immediately.

I let my mind loose and started carefully writing out chemical combinations. I quickly ruled out the ones that wouldn't worked, but nothing was quite what I was looking for yet. Before I knew it, I went through four cups of coffee, several sheets of paper, and two pens. It was like I was in a trance, almost fanatical. I had to do this. Biochemistry was something I enjoyed, something I had wanted to make a career out of, but right now, it was frustrating the hell out of me.

I didn't want to resort to this, but I had no choice. I opened my phone and called Dr. Hamilton. He was a scientist that was formerly a part of Lionel's experimental staff at Luthorcorp, but his projects were getting a little too experimental for Luthorcorp. Since Lionel fired him, I hired him as my personal researcher. The man was sneaky and on the edge of shady, but his work was truly earth-shattering. He just needed some money to get it off the ground.

"Hamilton." The African American man had a deep voice that boomed, even over the phone.

"I need you to do something for me. Are you working on anything important?" If it was, I would simply compensate him so that he could work on my problem.

"Nothing that can't be set aside for a few days. What do you need?" If nothing else, the man was certainly ambitious.

"Buy a bag of Jackson's Best fertilizer and find out what it's made of. When you've got the chemical components, call me." It was sneaky and subversive, but so was Lionel's little surprise miracle formula given to the other company. In any other family, this would be considered uncouth, but it was the norm for Luthors.

"Of course. I'll do it as soon as I can, Miss Luthor." We said our goodbyes, and my phone clicked shut.

Adele's voice made me jump. "You have a male guest."

"What does he look like?" I was irritated. I really didn't want to see anyone. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with my phone on the night stand and fall asleep for as long as I could. I rubbed my tired eyes.

"Tall with dark hair and a gorgeous smile." The French woman smiled conspiratorially and leaned on the door frame. "He's very cute, Alexandra."

I was almost blushing. I hoped it was Clark. I left my mess of crumpled paper to see who was at the door. Since I had checked the reports right when I got up, I was still wearing my pajamas. I had silky black pajama pants and a purple Met U t-shirt. It was totally out of the ordinary for me. I was wearing last night's make-up, and I hadn't fixed my hair yet. It was still pinned up, albeit messily, with the crystals in it.

I was sure that I lit up when I saw Clark standing in the entryway with his hands stuck in his pockets. He gave me one of those brilliant smiles, and he looked surprised when I gave him a heartfelt hug. I had never been the victim of a bear hug in my life until then. Clark's arms squeezed me just a little on the hard side, and he leaned back to lift me off the ground. Without my heels, he was about eight inches taller than me.

"I thought I'd never see you again," Clark joked, but his voice was filled with unease. There was some seriousness in that statement.

"What? You thought I'd leave Smallville without telling you and stay in Metropolis forever? Not a chance. My father's holding me hostage so I can get away from my hectic life." He set me down gently, and I immediately missed the warmth. The boy (_he's fifteen_) has a normal body temperature about ten degrees above what's average. His black curls look wind-blown, and his aqua eyes are glittering.

"Maybe. I heard what happened to the invisible boy. I expected you to be back when the ordeal was over, but when you weren't, I got nervous." He looked at me sheepishly. "I practically drove your father insane asking where you were today. He finally told me, but he said not to interfere with things. What's going on?"

"It was my life or his," I said softly. I truly believed that. "I wanted to come back, but Victor insisted that we stay in Metropolis for a bit." I noticed that Clark's eyes looked different when I talked about Victor. His body visibly tensed. "I ended up shooting him in the knee. He said a lot of nasty things."

"Easy, killer." It was meant to be a joke, but as soon as I heard the word, I knew that my body language gave away my distress. I crossed my arms over my chest and looked anywhere else but at Clark. "Oh my god, I was just kidding," he quickly corrected, and he brought me close again. I could smell his aftershave. I was totally mesmerized by the sensation of his powerful arms holding me, but I heard the apologies whispered into my ear. "I'm so sorry, Lex." His breath tickled my ear, and suddenly, an innocent situation was lighting me on fire.

"It's okay, Clark. I know you didn't mean it that way. It's just that I have. I killed Cassandra Carver." My voice felt raspy, and I was suddenly tired.

"No, you didn't." I stayed right there in his arms and had no intention of moving.

"I did. Just seeing my future killed her. I killed that teenage boy. He probably could've gotten better with medication and psychological treatment. I shot Victor because I was so fucking angry at him that all I could see was red. My father's right. I'm turning into a murderer." I mumbled the last part. I felt tears in my eyes again, and I stubbornly tried not to cry. _Luthors don't cry, Luthors don't cry..._

"None of it is your fault. Jeff tried to kill you. You said it yourself; it was either him or you. And you can't blame yourself for Victor. You've been so overloaded lately with these attacks and running the plant that you haven't taken any time for yourself. I think what he said was just the last straw. Your dad's right about one thing. You do need rest." I gave a short, sarcastic laugh. It could've been a sob, but I wouldn't admit it to myself.

"Maybe he had the right intentions, but I have more work here than I would've back in Smallville." He didn't ask me to step away from him, and I didn't ask him if it was okay that I stayed there. His hand was rubbing my back, and my forehead was resting on the side of his chest. I peered up through my eyelashes to see if he was tired of me being so close, but all I saw was caring and maybe a little bit of love. I dared not hope.

"How's that?" He kept his voice low and soothing. I think he could've easily soothed me to sleep if he wanted to.

"He brought me to one of his dinner meetings for Luthorcorp's proposal to work on a project with Wayne Enterprises. Bruce Wayne took a liking to me, and now he'll only do it if I'm the one that negotiates the deal. Not only that, but the plant is in trouble, and I have to figure out how to repair the damage." I was venting. But I couldn't help but think that if there was anyone in the world I wanted to hear it, it was Clark Kent. Not even Adele could do as well.

"It sounds like you have a lot on your plate for resting. Go get dressed. I'm taking you to lunch." It was said in that soft, smooth, baritone voice that I could listen to forever.

"What I'm wearing isn't good enough?" I teased. He surprised me by leaning down and kissing my lips. My heart did back flips in my chest.

"I don't care what you look like. If you go out like that, however, you'll cause a scandal. Lex Luthor wearing a t-shirt." And there was that beautiful smile again.

"Okay, I'll change." I had the irresistible urge to ask him to come with. Clark was feeling adventurous. Maybe it would work, even without any red meteor rock around. I turned to face him and walked slowly backwards as I brought the edge of my shirt up to expose my flat stomach. "Want to watch?" His eyes were glued to my hands and my waist. As soon as I asked the question, his cheeks turned flaming red. For a moment, I thought he might run away.

He swallowed. "Yeah." I could've hit him for the guilt on his face, but he seemed to grow more self-assured the more he looked at me. "I mean, we've already slept together." He sounded like he was trying to make it right in his eyes.

"We have. And you've already seen everything." I was leading him to my temporary bedroom. Adele was nowhere to be seen, thank God. I had a feeling that she made herself scarce for a reason. When we got to my room, Clark closed and locked the door behind him. I thought it was more that he didn't want to get caught rather than us being in here for longer than necessary. I pulled the shirt over my head and let it fall to the floor. I wasn't wearing a bra.

He took a deep breath as if preparing himself. "Can I touch you?" Permission was not one of the things I had often given in my sex life. At least, not verbal permission. I nodded, and he stepped closer to me. His hand ran up my stomach first, and his touch barely flickered over my nipples. He seemed to get braver when he watched them harden into little nubs and started kneading my breasts. I closed my eyes, and I could no longer control my breathing. I was aroused, and there was no doubt that he was too. I didn't look down. I didn't want to do anything to make him feel insecure.

He slipped his hands carefully under the elastic of my pants. He slid his hands down over my thighs, and the silk dropped. A lavender thong was all that was left. I decided to look at him and show him that I was thoroughly enjoying this. When I did, he shed that last piece of cloth from my body, and all of me was exposed to him. I stepped out of my panties. "Wow." It was barely whispered, and it was so gentle it might have been a released breath. "I want to see you without your hair."

This was the only thing I wasn't prepared for. I could bare my naked body, but take off my hair? What if he thought I wasn't beautiful anymore without hair? What if I looked like a freak? All the things I've ever feared about my lost curls were rearing their ugly heads. _Luthors don't do anything halfway_. I remembered my father saying that when I'd gotten a B on a test that I didn't try on. It seemed to fit here as well. I meekly grasped my wig in the special way that meant removal, and I let that fall to the floor too. I'd never felt more naked than I did at that moment. I was holding my breath.

He inhaled sharply at the sight of my bald scalp. Then he ran his fingers over it. I thought he'd be disgusted, that he'd say his father was right and never come around again. When I looked into his eyes, however, I saw that his pupils were dilated in arousal. His plump lips opened, and I dreaded what he was going to say. "This is the only way you were ever meant to be." It was strange, but it was strangely sweet as well. "You don't need the hair, Lex. You're the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen in my life right now, at this moment."

I scoffed a little in disbelief. "Even more gorgeous than Lana?" I was so jealous of that long, silken, jet black hair. I wanted to rip it from the girl's skull and make a wig out of it. I'd looked at myself long and hard in the mirror ever since I lost my hair, and not once did I think of myself as gorgeous.

"Yes. You're like this perfect, sleek woman, and you don't even know it." He touched my cheek, and I felt myself turn pink. I knew that the tips of my ears turned red when I was embarrassed. I also got freckles when I went tanning. "What was your real hair like before the meteor shower?"

It seemed odd that I was standing there naked and he was fully clothed, and we were talking about my hair, but it also seemed right. We didn't fit the norm. "It was red. Cinnamon. A little darker than carrot, but lighter than auburn. And it was curly. The long curls. I miss them." I hadn't meant to say that. Things just slipped out when Clark was around. I could stop thinking and plotting.

"You should go bare more often. You don't need hair to make you beautiful." He kissed me again. This time, it was deep, passionate, and almost sloppy. He was inexperienced and eager. It was a combination I definitely didn't mind. I guided his tongue to mine and pressed up against him. I could finally feel the erection trapped in his jeans and was surprised to find that a small amount of liquid had seeped through.

Teenagers were naturally extra horny, but I didn't expect him to be so aroused at the sight of my body. I ran my nails up his abs and broke the kiss to pull the shirt over his head. I took the time to admire his muscles again. He was perfect. He was built like a professional football player. I traced his muscles and teased his dark nipples. He let out a sexy moan, and I decided to push him a little.

My hand cupped him through his pants, and he instinctively jerked up against the pressure. "Do you like that, Clark?" With my free hand, I flicked one of his nipples again.

"Yes," he almost hissed. For a moment, it was almost like he was under the influence of the red meteor rock again, but I assured myself it was just impatience and arousal. When I gently bit his nipple and scraped my teeth against it, his dick jumped in my hand. "Oh, fuck." I never thought I'd hear him curse. A part of me was pleased at the thought that I made him do that.

I finally undid the button fly on his jeans. His cock, hard and flushed, sprang free and curved upward toward his stomach. He was big, even by my standards, but I knew he'd be careful. Clark was always careful. He kicked off his boots and socks, and suddenly, he had me pinned to the bed. He probably didn't think I'd notice that he'd used a burst of his superhuman speed, but I was ever observant. It didn't matter.

I eased him into me, and he slowly pushed all the way in. I wrapped my legs around his waist to get a better angle, and he began to do what his body told him. Eventually, his thrusts evened out and became harder and harder. He managed to last longer than I'd expected, and I was brought to climax before he was. I tightened around him and arched my back. "God, Clark," I breathed in a strained voice. It was heaven, if there was one, to have Clark on top of me. He came inside me. It should've been a glorious moment, but it reminded me that I'd forgotten a goddamn condom for the second time.

Clark seemed to have the same realization, even as he lay next to me panting. "We didn't use protection."

"We didn't use it the first time either. I seem to forget what the hell I'm doing when I'm with you." I looked over at him with sincerity in my eyes.

"I knew you were lying to me. I didn't realize it at the time, but later. When I looked back on it." That was impressive. Apparently, he had a great memory and really good perception.

"Yeah. Sorry. I didn't want to freak you out any more than you already were." It was raw honesty that was ruling the moment.

"I don't blame you." He shifted his eyes to the ceiling. "What if you are...?" The unspoken word seemed to be the loudest in the sentence.

"Let's not worry about it unless it happens. Dad wants me to get an abortion if I am." When I saw Clark's confusion, I continued. "He has pictures of us the first time. He must have cameras in the castle." I neglected to say that that meant he probably had cameras here too.

"It figures your dad would want to kill a baby," Clark joked. I smiled despite my situation.

"I don't think your dad would be a big advocate of it either." I couldn't help being serious. His eyes darkened, but then he pulled me close to him. I curled up against his warm chest, which was better than a heated blanket, and quickly fell asleep. Clark's rhythm of deep breathing didn't bother me and instead lulled me into a deeper sleep than usual. It seemed like it had only been half an hour when I woke up in the darkness.

I was afraid that I'd wake up alone, but Clark let out a gentle snore. I stifled a laugh and tried to extricate myself from his long limbs. I needed to check my cell phone to see if Hamilton had called during "lunch." The slightest movement seemed to wake him up, however, and I was pulled back down against his chest. He let out a caveman-like grunt and trapped me there with his arms wrapped around my waist.

"I have to check my phone," I whined. I was silenced by his lips giving me a slow, lazy kiss. I moved my hips to straddle him, and he immediately bucked up against me.

"You have to rest. I'm making sure that you do." His voice was low and clouded by sleep.

"You're not thinking. This is my dad's penthouse." I tried to keep it to a whisper. I didn't know if he was already home. I eyed the digital clock across the room, which read 7:48. I was definitely in trouble. Dad was probably home by now, and there was no way Clark could sneak out.

"We'll be quiet. Your door's locked. He'll just think you won't want to be bothered." He moved his cock to rub against my clit, and I shuddered.

"My father bothers me whether I like it or not." Apparently, trying to knock some sense into him wasn't working. His large hands gripped my ass and took control of the rhythm. Usually, I liked being in the control, but Clark was being so sensual that I didn't mind. It was totally sexy to have Clark being dominant for once. Before we could finish, I heard a rapid knock on the door. We both froze. I knew it was my father. He had to ruin everything.

"Alexandra? What the hell's going on?" His angry tone easily made it through the door. "Get out here and explain yourself. You're not a goddamn teenager anymore." He didn't know what exactly was going on, but he knew something was up. I got up from the bed without making much noise and started dressing myself. Clark started doing the same, but the bed creaked under his weight. "Lex?"

He wasn't going to give up. He was still waiting patiently outside the door while Clark and I got dressed and while I put my wig of long, straight hair on. I didn't want to expose Clark, but I didn't think that hiding him in my closet would work. Plus, Clark had left his coat on the living room couch. Who else that I knew wore that bright red color? When I opened the door, I was half-hoping that Lionel had forgotten about me and wasn't there. Fat chance.

Lionel looked like he was ready to tear down the door. His eyes flickered from me to Clark, who was standing in the background. Then, they narrowed in malice. "Let's talk in the family room, shall we?" It would've been extremely polite were his tone not so deadly. Clark and I silently followed him into the living room, where Clark's coat was still on the back of the couch. I sat to the far side of the couch and expected Clark to sit on the other side, but he sat right next to me and placed an arm around my shoulders. My father didn't like that little rebellion. He sat in the chair like an alpha lion ready to punish his pack by ripping at their hides until he felt they learned their lesson. That probably wasn't too far off from what was going to happen to us.

"So, I see that this little betrayal has come to fruition behind my back." His sharp words were already tearing through me, but I had to stay strong. I couldn't back down if Clark was planning on being strong too. "My twenty-one-year-old daughter, heiress to millions, has decided to cavort with a hick farmer's son." The words were intentionally placed to provoke Clark, and they worked.

"You make it sound like we've been doing something horrible. I love your daughter, Mr. Luthor, and I'm not prepared to relinquish that." Clark was trying to beat Lionel at his own game. I couldn't smile, because my father was mad. Since I was three years old, I had been taught that it wasn't good to smile when Daddy was mad. It was almost instinctive now.

Lionel chuckled, which wasn't a good sign. "What you've been doing is something illegal, Mr. Kent. Even with your consent, Lex is guilty of statutory rape. You're fifteen years old and underage." Clark reddened. It was a weakness that my father bit into and exploited. "Lex, do you really want to pop out babies and live on a farm for the rest of your life? To suffer poverty as a farmer's wife?" I didn't say anything. He stood up and rounded the couch to run his fingers through my fake hair. "I don't want to disinherit you, Lex. This is not your destiny. The son of Jonathan Kent is not a proper suitor, and he's not even old enough. You know better than to fuck little boys."

At his use of obscenity, Clark glared. It seemed that Jonathan Kent's prejudice of Lionel Luthor went the other way around too. It still scared me. I was not ready for a child, much less marriage. "I wouldn't stand in the way of anything Lex wanted to do," Clark said softly. He was obviously a little humbled by my father's accuracy. He knew how to hit all the weak spots.

"Do you think you would let her move to Metropolis when she inherits Luthorcorp? Would you leave your mother and father to move there?" Lionel's smooth voice was cutting deeper and deeper. "Do you really think Lex would fall in love with trailer trash like you? Please, you're still a boy. Maybe you should know a little more about my daughter's sordid past."

"Dad, that's enough." My voice was amazingly firm for what I was feeling right now. Emotional turmoil hadn't been a part of my life until I moved to Smallville. "He doesn't need to know." My juvenile records were sealed because of possible public embarrassment, and my father rarely brought them up unless he wanted a way to shame me.

"Know what?" Well, that bit me in the ass. I held my father's gaze as he returned to his chair, where he perched like a cat ready to pounce.

"You need to learn a lesson, Lex. Perhaps this will help." Tears stung in my eyes. Rejection was common with my father, but it was usually not this blatant in the presence of others. "When Lex was thirteen, she became quite promiscuous. I had to have someone follow her for her protection. As it turns out, Lex had a flavor for older, stronger men. She liked them to dominate her." I knew I was red as I looked out the window at scenic Metropolis. It was a beautiful, starry night. It didn't match what I felt inside. "She started bringing her interests home with her. One night, I caught her with another girl. So you see, Clark, Lex will never love you. You may be strong, but you're stupid, and you certainly won't dominate her. She'll walk all over you. She's never had a successful relationship with a man. Try as she might, the only relationships lasting longer than a week were with women. She's disgraced me more than she can imagine, and all the while, I'm trying to make her into a respectful heiress by providing her with perfectly good suitors."

Clark looked stunned. He was a little pale, like he didn't want to hear all that about me. I didn't blame him. I hadn't told him anything about my past, and he had me in his mind as an angel with no hair. The picture my father painted was very different. Did they even have homosexuality in Smallville?

"He's right," I admitted in a hoarse voice. "About everything. It's best that I get it over with so I don't hurt you later." Lionel gave me a look of approval. Like a pathetic puppy performing for a treat, I was given a rush of contentment. "I'm not the girl for you. You should keep after Lana. She likes you." I still couldn't quite read the expression on Clark's face. I think he was just stunned. "Look, I'll have a limo take you home. If you want to, we can discuss this when I'm back in Smallville at the end of the week. If not, you don't ever have to talk to me again."

He looked surprised by my solution. I thought for a moment that he would choose the latter. "I can get home on my own, Lex. I'm not going to give up on being your friend just because of your sexuality." Wow. It was a really open mind for a closed-minded town like Smallville. If Jonathan Kent knew about my sexuality, he would have a heart attack. He got up, probably grateful to be escaping Lionel's presence, and put on his coat. Dad let him walk out with no further comments about his father.

"God, Dad, could you be any more embarrassing? It was my story to tell on my terms when I was ready." I hid my face in my hands, and I felt weight sink into the couch right next to me. He stroked his hand over my hands. I shivered when his hands went up my thighs. He hadn't even told Clark _why _I was so averse to men, why all my relationships fell apart. Of course he wouldn't. Clark would've had Social Services involved, and Lionel wouldn't have let that happen. "Please don't." My voice cracked. I hated begging.

"He had to know. You would've hurt him just like you hurt all the others, and it would've broken his heart. You need to be taught a lesson, dear. I'm the only one who can do it." I closed my eyes when he grabbed my thighs and pulled me into his lap. "You look so much like your mother with the auburn hair." His voice had softened. I cringed. At the same time, my heart beat a little bit faster.

"Dad, I don't want to." I didn't open my eyes. A tear slid down my cheek, and his tongue licked the trail.

"You always refuse, like a wild horse. You just need to be broken in. You enjoy it. You've been a bad girl. Let Daddy fix it." I hated it. Hot shame flooded through me. It wasn't the first time he'd done it. It was always a punishment, and it was a sin. After my mother died, my father claimed that I needed more structure in my life. This was the way I was taught, but that didn't keep me from knowing it was wrong. With Clark, it had been so much different. I could have made it with him. This was taking five steps backward, but no one could stop Lionel.

Not even me.


	12. No Pressure

It wasn't the first time I'd woken up alone in my father's bed. He didn't care for cuddling and neither did I, but we were both tired. The part of me that was outraged and violated was stifled almost immediately by habit. It didn't matter how much I raged against myself or my father. It wouldn't change anything. I'd learned that a long time ago, when I was a teenager. No matter how hard I fought him, he would find a way to win.

Not to mention that he knew my weakness. All he had to do was to mention Clark suffering and I would submit. It wasn't worth the threat.

I left his room as soon as I could get myself up and went in mine. It felt better in there, like I hadn't been in my father's room at all. Forgetting was the best therapeutic tool I could get. I saw a piece of paper with my father's loopy scrawl placed in the middle of my bed and leaned in to glance at it. It said that he'd arranged for me to have lunch with Bruce at two o'clock. I rolled my eyes. I had to finish this deal so I could get the hell out of Metropolis. At least in Smallville, I ran my own life.

It was about noon when I got into the shower. The scalding hot water absolved me of my most recent sin. It was worse than usual this time, because being with Clark had felt so good. To return to feeling ashamed of my every breath for hours was torturous when compared with the heaven of being with Clark. I didn't know if I could handle it anymore. The stress and the tension began to melt with the hot water running down my skin, and my mind began to do its work. I had to put last night aside and ignore it. It was the only way to survive the guilt.

The strain finally faded away when I was done. The towel I used to dry myself was the softest fabric available. It felt good on my skin, which was raw and red from the heat. I looked like I had a bad sunburn. The thought made me laugh. I dressed professionally in a blue-gray blouse, black pants, and gray suede boots. My wig today was full of voluminous waves that looked like I'd gotten my hair professionally done. In a way, I had.

A small smirk curved my lips when I turned on my phone. It was on the charger. I hadn't put it there, but I knew Adèle probably did. I had four missed calls from Clark and five from Hamilton. Despite the urgency to call Clark right away, I had to pick Hamilton. I had to deal with the unpleasant facts first. The phone only rang once before he spoke his name into the phone.

"It's Lex. What do you have?" It didn't matter that I didn't give him an explanation for being absent yesterday. I didn't have to give reasons. I was the boss, and he was the lowly, overpaid scientist who did my dirty work when I was too busy to do it myself. The dirty work was sifting through soil samples and figuring out the chemicals in it.

"It's basically the same formula, but it's got a high content of meteor rock in it. You've had me studying the rock for the past month, and from meteor freaks, I can tell that it's a dangerous substance." He was being reasonable. It would definitely put them out of business if that were exposed. I felt a chill go through my spine when I thought of other people having to suffer because of the meteor rock.

"I know. Leak it to the press that it's in there and give them the names of a few meteor mutants that went on a rampage in the past month. That will be all, Hamilton. Your payment will be posted to your account by this evening." I looked down at my nails. I wanted another manicure, just because it was calming. In my teenage years, when everything girly was a sin, I would have been affronted by the prospect of getting a manicure. Now, I was far more logical.

"Thank you, Miss Luthor." Before he could say anything else, I hung up. Directly after, I called the bank to transfer the money to his account. There was a bonus in his payment, just because I was in a good mood. Jackson's Best would plummet in sales, and Luthorcorp would get a big boost. I was sure that was part of Lionel's plan, too. I called Gabe Sullivan at the plant and told him to start manufacturing the vitamin-rich fertilizer so that sales would go through the roof. Finally, I forced myself to take a deep breath, sit on the bed, and call Clark.

"Kent residence." Oh, fuck. Why did Jonathan Kent have to answer the phone? I could already hear his self-righteous, Luthor-hating comments in my mind. I didn't follow my instincts and hang up the phone. I decided to hang tough and actually ask for Clark.

"Hello, Mr. Kent. Is Clark home?" I sounded innocent enough. Perhaps the old farmer would allow me to talk to his son.

"Is this Lex Luthor?" He was angry. That didn't sound good. I resisted the urge to laugh at my bad luck.

"Yes, it is." I held back the ridiculous urge to ask if he wanted to switch to AT&T. Maybe I would've said it when I was a rebellious teenager, but not now that I was supposed to be a respectful adult. "Can I speak to Clark?"

"I don't know what you did to my son, but he came home last night in the worst mood Martha and I have ever seen him in. I told him you were going to be a bad influence--" It may have been a bad idea, but I cut him off.

"Mr. Kent, I didn't do anything to Clark. I didn't put him in a bad mood intentionally, sir. It was my father." When it came to business negotiations, I could probably have a contract in ten words. When it came to Jonathan Kent, all I seemed to be able to do was make his opinion of me worse.

"I don't care if it was you or your father. I don't want him to be around either of you." I heard Martha Kent protesting softly in the background.

"That's a little unreasonable, don't you think? Clark is intelligent enough to make his own decisions." Arguing with Jonathan was like arguing with a brick wall. The wall probably would've been easier.

"I don't think it's unreasonable. Clark's only fifteen years old, and it's not healthy for him to hang around with a Luthor." I could swear I heard Clark's voice. I was mentally pleading for him to take the phone away from his father.

"It's amazing how much prejudice you have against me, Mr. Kent. Can I talk to Clark now, or do I have to sit here and listen to you bitch about my family for another five minutes?" Whoops. That wasn't what I meant to say, was it? I might have stunned Jonathan Kent into silence, and the next thing I heard was Clark softly saying hello. I heard his feet on the stairs, which meant he had a cordless phone. I could finally breathe again.

"Was your dad really angry with what I just said to him?" I bit my lip. It was a habit I'd worked hard to get rid of, but it seemed to be coming back around Clark.

"I don't know. His face was really red, and he just went quiet. You'd better wait a while before coming to the farm again. I think he's itching for the shotgun." Part of his voice was joking, but the other part was serious. I was more inclined to save my own ass and listen to the serious side.

There was a bit of silence before I cleared my throat and tried to remember why I was calling. "I'm sorry about last night."

"Don't apologize. Your dad kind of freaked the both of us out." His voice was soothing. I sat back against my pillows and got more comfortable now that I had Clark on the phone.

"I should've told you a little more about my past." Not that I was expecting to fall in love with a gorgeous, fifteen-year-old farm boy.

"It was yours to tell, Lex. He shouldn't have said any of that." I practically heard the embarrassment in his voice. I imagined that he was blushing. "I still want us to have a relationship."

I was surprised. I didn't think he would talk to me about a relationship ever again. "Really?" I didn't hide what I was feeling in my voice. "My impression was that you were over me."

"No!" He cleared his throat. I was definitely wrong. "What your dad said shocked me. I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry for walking out on you."

"It's okay, Clark. I understand. My dad's not the most comfortable person to be around. I wanted to get the hell out of there, too." I was staring down at my fingers.

"What he said...was it all true?" He seemed a little uncertain, but I decided to be honest with him.

"Yes. When I was a teenager, I did everything to piss my father off. In the process, I found what I liked. It seemed like he had spies everywhere, because he knew about everything. But, Clark, that doesn't mean that I didn't enjoy our time together. It was great." I had to take a deep breath. If he rejected me now, I didn't think I could take it.

"You really liked it?" His voice was soft. I rolled my eyes. My father had made it sound like I was a hardcore sadomasochistic lesbian.

"Yes. I've never felt more complete." Now my voice was soft. It was hard to be vulnerable and admit all these things to him.

"When are you coming home?" His voice was filled with longing now. I wanted to hug him. It was a strange feeling.

"Soon. Until then, I think you need to listen to your father. My father's too involved in my life here, and things aren't going to settle down until I get back to Smallville." I hated telling him to stay away. I wanted him here with me, but my father might take drastic measures if he knew that I loved Clark.

"Okay." I heard the regret in his voice.

"I want you here, but it's too hard right now. I'll be home at the end of the week, okay? In the meantime, I'm having the mansion scanned for cameras and bugs." I already knew that Lionel had cameras. The pictures of me and Clark were vivid in my mind. "Your father's already upset enough as it is."

"Yeah." I could still hear the sadness in his voice. Part of me was irritated, but another part wanted to invite him over and cast away all inhibitions. "Can I still call you?"

"Of course." I reminded myself to keep my phone on and charged. "We ought to slow down anyways, Clark. Half the time we're together, we're making love, and the other half, you're saving me from imminent danger." I was itching to see if he was any good at video games, but that would have to wait. It was the competitive nature in me.

He let out a good-natured laugh. "It seems that way, doesn't it? Maybe you can teach me the more interesting parts of world history."

I smiled. "There's a lot of stuff that professors don't tell you."

"We should have a movie night." I liked the idea, but what if he had to run out to save someone? I was envisioning cuddling with him on the couch, though, and the vision was far too tempting to deny.

"Sure. We can watch the Star Wars trilogy." I was a closet Star Wars fan. I loved the supernatural, and my fascination didn't seem to end with movies.

"You like Star Wars?" He sounded excited. I could tell he was smiling on the other line, and his smile was infectious.

"Who doesn't? It's a classic." Girls didn't like Star Wars. I remembered Dad lecturing me about that. He'd given up about halfway through my teenaged years, because after that, I'd done everything that I thought of as masculine. I remembered chopping the hair off of one of my wigs so that it was short and punk. He didn't like that, but he had to live with it for three years.

"What about comedies?" I twisted my mouth downward a little.

"I can appreciate some of them, but I'll learn to live with them if you watch a few of my documentaries." I smiled when I heard Clark groan. "Some of them are quite good, you know."

"I guess we'll have to compromise." He didn't sound averse to the idea. I think he was excited to expose me to some of the frat boy comedy movies he had in mind.

"What day of the week will movie night be on?" I mentally urged him to pick a weekend.

"Is Friday okay with you?" I was surprised by his choice. Most teenagers were hanging out with their friends on Fridays. But, I reminded myself, I was the new girlfriend.

"Absolutely. Next Friday's your birthday, isn't it?" I started to get ideas. Wine, chocolate, whipped cream...but I was trying to be good, wasn't I? Damn.

"Yes. How'd you know?" I had access to the school records for a day as a favor. I probably shouldn't tell him that, though.

"You mentioned it in passing." That would work. I didn't like lying to him, but it was a little white lie.

We talked for at least an hour before I realized that I was almost late for lunch with Bruce. We hurriedly said our goodbyes, though his was not without a tone of jealousy in it, and I rushed out the door and into the elevator. The machine, though it was probably the fastest technology available, seemed to take forever. It was unprofessional to be late, and I didn't want to be at a disadvantage in this negotiation.

Even though my sleek, beautiful silver Porsche raced through the city, I ended up five minutes late to the bistro-type restaurant. I used my sunglasses to hide the impatience in my eyes as I sat down across from him, but I removed them for courtesy purposes.

Bruce Wayne was dressed all in black again. I was beginning to think that it was an obsession, but when I thought about the amount of purple in my wardrobe, I rethought my prejudice. His dark blue eyes were easy, playful, and a bit enigmatic. His dark hair was slicked back and emphasized his chiseled features. He didn't look nearly as rugged as Clark, I found myself thinking, but Clark was softer, too. Especially in the eyes.

I refused any food and just had coffee. I probably didn't need the caffeine, but I took it anyway. If I drank any more coffee, caffeine would replace my blood.

"So, are you Luthors always late?" His voice was suave and a touch condescending as he drank his own coffee. His was unsweetened. I added cream and sugar liberally to mine.

"Just keeping you on your toes." The distance between us across the table was not a lot. His knee rubbed against mine, and I automatically shifted my legs to cross one over the other. I wasn't here to flirt. "I'm only in Metropolis for the next two days." I wasn't staying the full week. I wouldn't be able to stand it. I couldn't wait to get back to Smallville. Once, I thought Metropolis might have been my niche, but for right now, Smallville seemed a lot more like home.

"I guess we'll be spending a lot of time together before then." He was serious. I just wanted to finish this. He obviously wasn't letting it go.

"I'll be happy to discuss the terms of the contract." I hated trying to pacify people almost as much as I hated begging.

"Do you know what this contract is for?" He was testing me. This, I could do. I could prove my worth to him easily. I took another casual drink of my coffee.

"A jet. My father wants to synthesize Luthorcorp's research on fuel and aeronautics with your company's expertise in technology." I hated the checkered tablecloth. It was red and white, and it was hurting my eyes. I wondered if he'd chosen this place for a reason.

"You're sexy when you talk all scientific like that." He threw me a wink. I knew that Bruce was a playboy, but obviously, I didn't know how much. I tried to keep a serious expression on my face and save my smiles for Clark.

"I'm not interested." It was best to stop him now before I got tempted. Clark's gorgeous smile was enough to keep me from straying, but I couldn't exactly control myself when I wasn't watching closely.

"Ouch. Can't blame me for trying." When he gave me a small smile, I relaxed a little. "If I get into business with your father, is he going to stab me in the back?" That was pretty blunt.

"Not that I know of. From what I can tell, he's seeking an opportunity to make Luthorcorp bigger than it is. He wants to expand, and your company would help him do that." His blue eyes were calculating and mindful of my every movement. "If you succeed at this project, it's probable that the government and private contractors will be all over it. You'll make billions."

"And if it doesn't succeed?" I could sense that the playboy part of him was an act. This was the real Bruce, the one getting down to business.

"It will. If my father is anything, it's persistent. Both of your companies have the top scientists in the world, and if you put them together, it's very likely you'll get something worthwhile out of it." The waitress refilled our coffee, and the hot liquid helped my dry throat.

"Your father underestimates you, Lex. You're a very able candidate for his successor." From the look on his face, he wasn't joking about that.

"Thank you." It was polite, but also appreciative. A lot of CEO's couldn't see past gender.

We went somewhere more private to discuss the terms of the contract. His penthouse in Metropolis was decorated in clean, simple black. Even the kitchen appliances were black. There were some odd pieces of art on the walls. Most of them had hasty brushstrokes that invited the viewer into the movement of the painting. I didn't realize that he'd returned from his office to the recreational room until I pulled myself out of the art.

"Do you like art?" It was an innocent enough question. We had talked a little on the ride over, so I felt that it deserved an honest answer.

"Yes. Yours has great movement for abstract art." He didn't ask me anything else. We sat down to discuss terms, one by one. I held out on my fair share of the terms so that my father benefited greatly, but Bruce did the same thing for some of his terms. The time frame was non-negotiable. Luthorcorp had to produce something with Wayne Enterprises within a calendar year, or else the contract would be null and void.

When I was leaning over him to re-read the drafted contract, the intensity in the air reached a boiling point. I had been blind to it at first. We both had a great work ethic, and we were both equally intense when we were working. I didn't realize just how dangerous of a position it was until Bruce's lips were an inch from mine. My mind, lulled into a mellow buzz, didn't react until he was almost kissing me.

I drew back as soon as my thoughts went to Clark, and adrenaline was coursing through my veins as if I had just hit pavement. "I'm sorry, I can't." It was a really crappy explanation, but he only licked his lips and nodded. I was cursing myself inside. Maybe my father was right. Maybe I would fuck up this whole thing with Clark. Maybe it was just in my nature. "Send a copy to my father's lawyer," I remembered to add before I was out the door.

Thankfully, we had brought my car. Once I was inside the safe refuge with the doors locked, I allowed myself to catch my breath. I hid my face in one hand. My face was pink. Nothing happened. Something almost happened, but that didn't count. Should I tell Clark? If I told Clark, he might never trust me again. If I didn't tell Clark, he might never trust me again if he found out. I felt like I was caught between two unhappy choices. It felt like two walls closing in on me.

I jumped considerably when a hand tapped on my window. It was Bruce. I rolled down my window. It was a shitty day, and it was starting to rain. He didn't seem to care about the weather.

"Listen, I want to apologize for what happened. It was unprofessional of me." The wind was whipping at his hair and messed up its perfect appearance. His shirt started to cling to his body from being wet.

"It's okay. It's partially my fault, too. I have someone." Someone fifteen and completely unsuitable for me, but wasn't that what I wanted?

He didn't even look cold. "Come back inside. We'll relax. We'll just talk. Do you like Thai food?"

That didn't sound too safe. I wanted another chance to prove myself. I wasn't some whore who would go cheating on my boyfriend. Besides, I needed more friends, and Bruce didn't seem like a bad guy. He was toughing out the weather just to ask me back inside. "Sure."

When we were back in the elevator, I noticed that he didn't seem cold at all. I was trying not to notice how his shirt was showing that he was thin and muscular or how his hair looked really cute when it was wet. It brought out the blue in his eyes even more intensely. I thought of Clark's doe eyes. Even though Bruce was my type, Clark was someone I didn't want to lose. Bruce went into his room to change into a dry shirt and left me to order the Thai food.

I ordered one of everything on Bruce's tab. He wouldn't miss the money, and if he did, I would pay him back. He came back into the room with a hand towel wrapped around his neck. He was wearing a crisp white shirt. It wasn't black. Maybe that meant something. Then again, maybe it didn't mean anything. Maybe my imagination was thrown into overdrive. I decided to call Clark to let him know what I was doing.

I told him the truth. I was hanging out with Bruce, because we seemed to have a lot in common. I hoped to throw off his jealousy a bit by adding that I was in need of friends, and I put that I loved him at the end. Bruce was spying from the corner of his eye and listening carefully until I hung up the phone. "What movie do you want to watch?" I was sitting down on his couch, which was quite comfortable. It wasn't leather, but it was made out of a soft suede material. Since Bruce had come back in barefoot, I took off my boots and set them neatly on the carpet in front of the couch.

"Your pick." He tossed me a remote. I turned on the giant television and started surfing through the movie channels. He sat down, and we watched a horror film. As it turned out, we both liked to pick apart movies. We discussed how fake each scene was, how nothing was scientifically accurate, and how curry made everything better. I didn't eat half of the food, but he said that he liked the food anyway, and leftovers were always a good thing. Clark had said that he was busy and to have fun, so she did. Somehow, we got on the subject of my father.

"He wants me to turn a failing Luthorcorp plant in Smallville into a profit. He had our family's ancestral castle imported from Scotland. It's insanely beautiful." He looked like he appreciated that and nodded. "I thought I was going to be bored to death, but it's interesting, I suppose. I'm anxious to get back, actually." I let out a small laugh.

"And Clark? What's he like?" Bruce didn't miss a thing. That was the bad thing when it came to the both of us being so similar.

"Gorgeous. Sweet. I feel like we're a complete mismatch, but somehow, that makes it perfect." I looked at him from the corner of my eye.

"I understand. Opposites attract." When I looked at my watch, I realized that it was eight o'clock already.

"I should get going." I got up to stretch and had to pretend I wasn't surprised by his question.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" Most men weren't interested in me if they couldn't date me.

"I don't have anything planned." It was an ambiguous answer.

"Call me if you want to do something." He gave me a slip of paper with his phone number on it. "It has the number of the penthouse, my cell phone, and my home in Gotham if you ever need anything." I smiled.

"Thanks. It's nice to have a guy around who doesn't want to get into my pants." I was putting my boots back on, but I didn't miss his reaction. His eyes had that deep intensity in them again.

"I didn't say _that_. I respect your right to stay loyal to Clark." He had a small smirk on his face. It meant that, if I wanted to, I had an opening with him for a relationship.

I left soon after. I took my time getting home. Hopefully, Dad would be asleep. When I tried to make my way quietly through the penthouse, I heard loud moans coming from his bedroom. I felt a mix of both relief and disgust. At least it wasn't me tonight. I snuck into my room and put everything away neatly. I was definitely obsessive compulsive when it came to organizing my room. I sank into my bed under the silken sheets and ignored the sounds coming from the next room. I slept peacefully.


	13. Heaven and Hell

It was my last morning in Metropolis. It started out well enough. I called Hamilton to hear the news that Jackson's Best was being shut down for hazardous materials. When I called Gabe Sullivan at the plant, he sounded ecstatic. Business was better than ever. Now we had double the customers. I informed him that I would be returning tomorrow. He sounded relieved. Gabe had a daughter, and he was probably anxious to spend more time with her. I had no one I wanted to hang out with except Clark. It was unfair to steal all of his time when he had a family.

I was nervous when I called Clark. I had to tell him about Bruce. It was already making me feel guilty enough. Luckily, he answered the phone on the first ring. "Hey, Clark."

"Hey, how are you?" His voice was genuinely concerned, and I could tell that he was probably in the barn alone by his comfort level. I missed hearing his voice.

"I have something to get off my chest." I didn't want to make excuses for myself, but I didn't want him to hang up on me either. "I want to be honest with you."

His tension was almost audible. "Did something happen between you and Bruce?" Underlying his tone was an accusation that was probably unintentional. He was trying to sound casual, but I could tell that he was worried.

"Almost. We were working on the contract for Luthorcorp, and we got kind of close. We almost kissed, but we didn't, Clark. I thought of you." I waited for my damnation. I was sure that Clark was going to freak out.

I didn't expect the relief in his sigh. "God, Lex, you scared me. I thought you slept with him."

"You mean you're not mad at me?" Did I sound like a child? Maybe, but I would never admit it.

"Of course not. Nothing happened." I could sense the jealousy in his voice. "Maybe you should hold off on seeing him again for a while." It was a suggestion that most men would've made into a command. If it were a command, I'm sure I would've felt the urge to rebel, but Clark wasn't that kind of guy.

"I was thinking about seeing him today, but I'll just go shopping instead." That would ease my tension a little. I loved silky, beautiful things, even though I still had a grudge against dresses.

"You can if you want to. I didn't mean to make it sound like I didn't trust you. I do." He quickly backtracked, but unlike most men, his was likely good-natured.

"Maybe you shouldn't. Maybe your dad's right." I wanted Clark's hands on my face and the steadying look in his aqua eyes.

"He's not. You're not your father, Lex. I trust you," he emphasized. I heard a few of his bones crack, and he groaned a little. It sounded like he was in pain.

"Are you alright?" It was unlike me to be so concerned over someone, but Clark was different.

"I'm fine. Just a little sore. This kid at school went crazy. It wasn't his fault." To Clark, it never was. "This guy's trying to say that Dad sold him the farm. He's got paperwork and everything."

Clark's distress saved me from making the mistake of asking him if he could even get sore. He didn't know that I knew about his powers. "Do you need me to come home early? I can take care of it." With threats, blackmail, and possibly a little violence. I would do anything to make Clark smile that gorgeous smile.

"Don't worry about it. Enjoy your last day in Metropolis." My good-hearted Clark. I saw something from the corner of my eye and realized that my father was standing in the doorway. It wasn't the first time he'd listened in on one of my conversations, but it irked me nonetheless.

"Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow morning." We said our goodbyes, and I flipped my cell phone shut. "It's impolite to eavesdrop."

"Isn't that a bit hypocritical?" He was right. As a child, my curiosity had been insatiable. Now, I no longer wanted to know everything that went on behind my father's closed doors. "I suspect you were speaking to Clark." It wasn't a question, and he already knew the answer.

"I finished the contract with Wayne Enterprises." It was a subtle way of changing the subject, but I'm sure my father caught it.

"So I heard. My lawyers tell me that it's impeccable. I'm going in to sign it today." He leaned down to kiss my forehead and place a hand on my shoulder. "I'm proud of you, Lex. I've arranged for you to have a congratulatory dinner with Bruce at Circe tonight."

My father wasn't going to stop arranging my social calendar anytime soon. I simply took all the compliments and smiled. "Thanks, Daddy."

"Perhaps you'll realize how much better he is for you than that child." My positive feelings all went down the drain. It was typical of my father to ruin a compliment. I tried not to glare.

"I'm not dating Bruce." My voice was firm, but he shook his head as if he were dealing with an insolent child.

"You're so beautiful. It's a shame you have such a mouth." He was obviously referring to my attitude. He ran a thumb over my lips.

"We both know where my sharp tongue comes from." It was the wrong thing to say. He leaned in. I had nowhere to go. He ran his tongue over my lips very deliberately.

"Yes. And we both know that it won't work between you and that Kent boy." His breath was warm on my lips. I swallowed hard. Before I could deny it, he coaxed my lips open. While he kissed me, he lifted me up and guided my legs to lock around his waist. What good was staying loyal to Clark when my father forced me to betray him at every turn? "I had some whore from a bar last night. She wasn't nearly as exquisite as you are, my dear."

I could feel his hardness grow directly against my most sensitive place. The feeling of guilt tightened my chest as I felt aroused.

"Cut him off, Lex." My father's demand was practically growled in my ear. My heart pounded when I gave my answer.

"No." He was stronger than he looked. I remembered that fact precisely when he shoved my face against the wall. I felt blood trickle down my cheek.

"Are you sure?" His tone was dangerous. His hand was planted squarely in the middle of my back to keep me uncomfortably pushed against the wall. His cock was harder than before against my ass. I knew what it meant. I'd been through rougher treatment, but that didn't mean I wanted to go through it again. Still, I wanted Clark.

"Yes." My arms were trapped uselessly between my chest and the wall, but I wouldn't dream of fighting back. He knew my weakness.

"You'll only hurt him." His voice mocked me as he ripped my bottom half bare of all clothing. I heard him undoing his pants and felt my breathing grow erratic in nervousness. Even with my asthma cured, old habits never died easily. "He'll only betray you. He'll go after that Lang girl, and you'll have lost to an empty-headed cheerleader." I heard a packet tear.

"It's my choice." I couldn't help but let out a cry when he anally penetrated me. It hurt even with lubrication, and he shoved himself in all at once.

"Just remember, this is what you chose." Every time he thrust in, I moved up against the wall. My cheek was suffering, and so were the palms of my hands. I tried to make as little noise as possible, because I knew he wanted to hear my pain. Whenever he changed position, however, I nearly howled with renewed agony. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?" I could barely hear him through the haze of endorphins my body was sending out to counteract the pain.

It seemed like it would never end. Tears stung in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. My father would not see my tears. His fingers entered me from the front, and I realized that he was waiting for the last moment possible to inject any pleasure into the situation.

"This was one of your favorites, wasn't it? Two men fucking you at the same time? Perhaps we could have Clark join us later." He fingered me harder, and I bit back a moan.

"You wouldn't. He would expose you in a second." I had all the power on that one. I knew that there was no way he'd tell Clark about his perverse hobby.

He nearly roared and grabbed my throat. I couldn't breathe for at least half a minute. I lost count. He fucked me harder and harder until I finally came. My vision was swirling, and my head was fuzzy with near unconsciousness. My face was tingling when he dropped me to the floor, zipped up his pants, and left. He closed the door behind him. I gulped in all the air that I could, and the tears started to pour.

My ass hurt like all hell. It felt like he was still there, and it ached. I took off my wig and took my ritualistic shower. This time, it lasted longer. The hot water didn't run out, because Luthors had all the hot water we could ever need. My cheeks were reddened with shame and guilt. The water didn't melt it all away. It made it worse.

I dried myself and went straight to bed without dressing or putting a wig back on. I was vulnerable in every way, and I didn't want any false pride mucking up my brooding. Underneath the warm blankets, I fell asleep.

I woke up to the unpleasant sensation of being slapped. The abrasion on my cheek stung anew. I opened my eyes to an enraged father.

"You're going to be late for your dinner! Get out of bed, you ungrateful wretch!" He slammed the door when he left. He was pissed. When he was forced to come face-to-face with my baldness, it was easier for him to hit me. I looked less human. He was still yelling from the hallway. I scrambled to find a silky dress that was a beautiful shade of robin's egg blue and put it on. I also put on my wig and a few items of jewelry. By the clock, I had less than fifteen minutes.

I put on some light makeup and put my cell phone into a small, impractical purse. By the time I was putting my silver heels on, Lionel burst back into the room. "I'm going!" I shouted before he could say anything. It was a tactic I used a lot during my teenage years, and it still worked now. I shot past him and went down to the waiting limo.

I pulled down a mirror in the back and put more foundation on the cut on my cheek. It was still visible. "Damnit." My heart was pounding from my father's anger. I was still sore from earlier, but my body was working on healing itself. The cut and the soreness would probably be gone by tomorrow. Thankfully, she wouldn't have to explain it to Clark.

I put on some fashionable sunglasses that were large enough to cover the abrasion. I smiled for the cameras and didn't answer any questions on Circe's red carpet. When I was shown to Bruce's table, I tucked the sunglasses away into my purse. I gave Bruce a genuine smile when he looked up from his watch.

"You're late again." His deep voice was playful, but then it turned serious. "What happened to your cheek?"

I sat down and ordered a white wine. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to keep you waiting." I hadn't thought of an excuse for my cheek. "I fell." Maybe if I kept it simple, he wouldn't ask anymore questions.

"Mm-hm." He didn't believe me. I was grateful when my bottle of wine arrived. As soon as the maitre d' poured it, I drank it down. "You might as well say that you walked into a door."

He could read me like a book already. "Is it that obvious?"

"No. I'm just that intelligent." He was definitely cocky, but he wasn't all that arrogant. It was a pleasant sort of cocky. "Everyone knows that you and your father don't have the best relationship."

"He's not exactly a candidate for a spot in the Brady Bunch." I was dancing around the answer that he was arriving at. I didn't want anyone to know what my father did to me. I took another drink of my wine and glanced at the menu.

"No, I wouldn't think so." He seemed to read my discomfort and changed the topic to a lighter one. "He wants us together, doesn't he?"

"Yes. He's trying very hard to play matchmaker." The conversation wasn't awkward like it would be between most people.

"Does that bother you?" Bruce had a red wine that he drank slowly. His dark blue eyes were intent on watching me.

"Not really. You're definitely my type." He took the compliment with a smile. I wished he would smile more often, because it looked beautiful on him. Not as jaw-dropping as Clark's, but it was still good in its own right.

"I didn't think so. What bothers you is that he doesn't want you with Clark. What makes him a bad candidate?" Just like Clark was curious about Bruce, Bruce was curious about Clark. It was like they both wanted to know their enemy. Men.

"That's true." I frowned and formulated my response carefully. "He thinks that I'm far too mature for Clark. He also has a grudge against that particular kind of person."

I was dancing around the topic again. "You're older than him. How young is he?"

"Under eighteen." I thought that was plenty of information.

"Ah, jail bait." Bruce nodded as if he understood. "Anything else?"

I decided that I could trust him. "Son of a farmer."

Bruce chuckled. "Wow, you weren't kidding when you said that you two were complete opposites. If I may ask, what's his appeal?"

I had a minute to gather my wits as we ordered our food. After the waitress left, I thought of Clark's best characteristics. "He saved my life. He's the first person to care about me in a long time." It was an answer packed with truth, and Bruce nodded again. He appreciated the honesty.

"He's good for you, then. It's just an inconvenience of time that he's so much younger. I'm sure your father doesn't see it that way." I had a feeling that Bruce had never been in love with anyone underage, but he was so understanding about it.

"No, he doesn't. He thinks that Clark is a terrible choice." My wine glass was filled again.

"Which is why he keeps pushing me on you." Bruce didn't miss much. His eyes were still focused on me.

"Yes." I was surprised when Bruce's hand covered mine in a comforting gesture. I showed my appreciation in my eyes. "Thanks for listening."

"You're welcome." He was so kind to me. I had heard about Bruce Wayne the playboy, the jerk, and the eccentric billionaire, but this was nothing I'd heard of. His voice dropped to a soft murmur that I had to strain to hear. "What really happened to your cheek?"

I was struck with the desire to tell someone before it burst out of my chest. But it was so shameful that I couldn't admit it. Ever. If I did, part of the blame would be placed on me. I allowed my father to fuck me. I was weak. "I don't want to talk about it." My voice was strained.

"Okay." His fingers rubbed the back of my hand lightly. "If you ever want to talk to someone about it, I'm here." God, it sounded like I needed psychological help. If there was anything that I repulsed, it was that psychobabble thrust on me by several psychologists throughout my life.

The food arrived, and I picked at it until I was full. It didn't take much. I was feeling fuzzily pleasant by the end of the meal. Six glasses of wine didn't usually affect me, but I liked the feeling. When Bruce offered to watch a movie with me at his penthouse, I accepted. We took the back way out so that those conniving vultures didn't get a picture of us together, and Bruce drove. My mind buzzed contently when we curled up on the couch. I didn't bother sitting on the other end of it. We were just friends, right? He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, and all of a sudden, my skin was tingling all over.

I recognized the symptoms vaguely from my many experiences with ecstasy. Was I high? It didn't make sense. I wanted to just let it go and enjoy the buzzing warmth of being close to Bruce, but at the same time, my logical mind pushed through the daze. The wine. It had to be. My father had arranged this whole thing, and he was trying to get me to jump into bed with Bruce, one way or another.

"I think my father drugged my wine," I whispered. The movie was a high-powered action film, but I couldn't pay attention to it.

"Are you alright?" His deep voice was filled with concern as he looked down at me. Somehow, my head ended up on his shoulder.

"I think so." I was afraid to say what came next. "Just keep touching me." I saw arousal flash in his dark eyes, but he only rubbed up and down my arm. Was there some kind of rule in relationships that you couldn't cheat even if your father had slipped you ecstasy?

"I don't think that one's in the rule books," Bruce murmured, and I realized I must've said it out loud. My mind was slipping away from me, and all I could think about was touch.

His hand slipped down to my purse, opened it, and took out my cell phone. He switched hands as he found Clark in my address book and called him. He rubbed my back, and I shuddered when his calloused hands slipped over my bare skin. Bruce patiently asked for Clark and gave his name. Jonathan didn't seem to give _him _any problems.

I tried my hardest to be quiet, but I was like an impatient child. Bruce kept his hand on my skin as he finally got Clark on the line.

"Hi, Clark. This is Bruce Wayne." Clark was probably worried as hell. Usually, it would've been me calling him, but my mind wasn't capable of talking. Instead, I was arching my back under Bruce's hand like a cat in heat. I hated my father. "She's fine, but I think she might've been drugged." I didn't care what it looked like when I grabbed his hand and ran it over my neck. I just needed skin-to-skin contact like I needed air. "I'm not sure. She's rubbing on me."

"Ecstasy," I was able to get out before I trailed his hand down my cleavage. He was watching me carefully, but I kept it safe. I didn't know how much longer I could.

"She says ecstasy." Clark could be here in three minutes. I was fairly certain of that, but then Bruce would know that something wasn't right. It was an hour and a half drive. I whined. "Clark, I'm not going to lie to you. The way she's acting..." There was a long pause. Bruce's face went pale. "Okay. I promise I won't hurt her." He was quiet when he flipped the phone shut. "Well. He said that it's not our fault, but if I hurt you in any way, he's going to tear me apart." From his face, I could tell that Clark had gone into a lot more detail than that.

That was all the permission I needed. I climbed into his lap and kissed him. It was a full-blown, ravenous kiss that he returned with the same tenacity. Our teeth clicked, but I needed the full length of his tongue on mine. "Oh, God," he muttered when he broke the kiss. His hands deftly undid the top of the dress at the back of my neck. He didn't pause before he pulled me up by my hips so that he could suck on a nipple. I moaned and bucked my hips. Those hands, beautifully rough with a texture that made my skin sing, slid my dress down and let it drop to the floor.

I hastily undid my heels and dropped them as well. All I had left was a thong. I ripped open his shirt and ran my hands over the coarse hair on his chest. He pulled me into another tenacious kiss and made it so that I was straddling his hardness. I moaned into his mouth and maintained as much skin contact as I could while I ground my hips down into his. His hands squeezed my ass and then removed my thong. In return, I ran my fingers over his muscled stomach and opened his pants.

He was well-endowed, but he wasn't quite as big as Clark was. After he put a condom on, he eased me down onto his dick, and the ecstasy was in full-swing. I was probably loud as could be when he fucked me, but he didn't seem to care. It didn't take either of us long to come, and when we did, we were both panting. He cleaned us up and carried me to his bed, where I promptly fell asleep with his arms wrapped around me.

When I woke up, he was looking at me sleepily. "Still friends, right?"

"Yeah." My voice was still groggy, but my mind was doing far better than it had been last night.

"What would your father have done if I had just sent you home?" It was a smart question. I couldn't ever tell Clark. Maybe I could tell Bruce.

"He probably would've done it himself," I said softly. Anger flashed in Bruce's deep blues, and he squared his jaw.

"I thought so." He paused for a moment, and then said, "None of that is your fault, you know. You carry it around on your shoulders."

"It's my fault for letting him do it." I pulled the blanket closer to me.

"How long has this been going on?" His voice was soft. He didn't want to scare me off.

"Since my mother died." I had taken her place in Lionel's bed, but I suspected that he abused me far more than he ever did my mother.

"Then it's not your fault, because you had no choice. You still have no choice. If you didn't do it, he would find some other way to hurt you." His words were wiser than I expected. He was more intelligent than he pretended to be. "Is there anything I can do, Lex?"

I considered the question carefully. My father was one of the most powerful men in the country. There was no way he could be torn from the throne unless he died. "No."

"I'm sorry." Before I could tell him that it was okay, a buzz rang through the penthouse. "That's the door. Let me go get it."

I shifted so that he could get up. He put on pajama pants and went to answer it. I waited for under a minute before Clark was holding me in his arms. "Clark!" I said in surprise, and I hugged him earnestly. "I missed you so much!"

"I missed you, too. When I heard about your father did, I knew I had to come to Metropolis." It didn't matter that I was naked in another man's bed. I was forgiven already, and Clark's joy made my happiness go through the roof.

"You were just what I needed." I realized that I was almost crying and blinked back the tears. "I love you."

"I love you, too." I saw that smile again and smiled myself. It felt ridiculous, but it felt so right when I did it with him.

"Here are your clothes," Bruce said from the doorway. I could see him admiring our relationship from afar. Clark took them from him, and Bruce excused himself from the room. I got up and stretched. Clark kissed me softly and handed me the dress. I put it on along with the heels and my thong. Clark seemed to beam with contentment.

"I have the truck outside. It took me a while to find the penthouse." I could imagine that his determination kept him from giving up.

"Are you mad?" I watched him carefully.

"No. A little jealous of Bruce, but I'm not mad." He was being honest. I threw my arms around him again, and he picked me up in a bear hug. His face grew more serious. "I have to talk to your father before we go back to Smallville."

I wanted to tell him no. My father would tear him apart. "I'll go with you to talk to him."

"Are you sure?" I wanted to be his support system.

"Yes." We decided that we should get out of Bruce's hair. We smiled at each other, and I gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Hit me up the next time you're in Gotham or Metropolis." Bruce didn't miss Clark's glower.

"You do the same if you're ever in Smallville." I pulled away and eyed Clark. "Maybe you and Clark could get to know each other a little better."

Most men would be unnerved by Clark's hostility, but Bruce just nodded. "Sure."

We left the penthouse. Clark was driving his father's old, beat-up truck. "Did your father say you could borrow his truck?"

"Not exactly." I shifted uncomfortably in the plush seats. "He won't blame you." I was still nervous about that shotgun.

It didn't take long to drive from Bruce's penthouse to Lionel's. I used my card to get us in, and it seemed like Lionel was waiting for us. He was sitting in his chair like it was a throne. "Ah. Clark, Lex, what a pleasant surprise." He didn't mean a word of it. He drank some of his coffee and remained seated.

"I doubt it." I was holding Clark's hand behind my back. We stood hip-to-hip as a united front. "I didn't think you wanted Bruce and me together so badly."

"What ever do you mean?" He still thought he could remain innocent. His amber eyes studied the both of us like a lion preparing its attack.

"It may have been a long time since I've had ecstasy, but I recognize it when I'm on it." I could sense Clark's anger rising. "Someone slipped some into my wine last night."

"Are you alright, darling? You seem more paranoid than usual." He emphasized the word "paranoid," and it had its intended effect. I had a flash of being back in Belle Reve. I squeezed Clark's hand tightly. Being in a mental hospital had been the worst three months of my life. I wasn't going back.

"You were the one who set up the dinner. You obviously wanted her and Bruce to sleep together." Clark spoke up for me.

"What a convoluted plot. Did this imaginary plan work?" He was actually curious. He didn't have cameras in Bruce's apartment, after all.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" My voice was predatory. "I'm returning to Smallville. I don't want you to interfere with Clark and me anymore. If you do, I'll show the whole world exactly what you don't want them to see." His eyes narrowed. He knew exactly what I was talking about. If he messed with Clark, I would expose Lionel's perverse nature.

"You wouldn't." It reminded me of the conversation we had right before he raped me. I felt a current of power running through my veins.

"_I _would, Dad. I would tell them everything." My voice was fierce. "All I ask is that you leave Clark and me alone."

Lionel scowled. Clark tried to keep the look of mild confusion off his face. "You'll get what you want, Lex. Let's see if you want what you get."

His words scared me deep down, but I stood proud in spite of them. "I'm going back to Smallville."

"I'm not going to stop you." He looked like a predator crafting his revenge. It made me nervous, but I left with Clark.

When we were back in the car, Clark asked the question I'd been dreading. "What were you threatening him with?"

"I don't want to talk about it." He remained silent until we stopped at a stop light.

"You can tell me anything." I believed him, but his secret loomed over me, and I was silently enraged by it.

"You know how we don't talk about your secret? This is mine." Clark looked mildly surprised.

"What do you know?" His voice was a tiny bit tense, but he kept driving. He was trying to look calm.

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret anymore." It was a bit of a taunt, but I couldn't help it. We'd been together in the most intimate of ways, and we'd never told each other our deepest, darkest secrets.

"I'm serious."

"I'm tired. The amount of ecstasy I had last night could've killed a normal person." Luckily, the truck had room to lie down. The seats were all connected. Clark placed a hand on my head.

"A normal person?" Clark echoed.

"I told you, I heal fast. It would take a lot of drugs to kill me. I should know. I tried all of them when I was a teenager." I found myself reminiscing to distract him from the fact that I knew part or all of his secret. I didn't think I knew all of it yet. "After my mother died, I tried everything I could to destroy myself besides actually killing myself. I slit my wrists once, and when I woke up in the hospital, my father told me to stop being an idiot."

Clark snorted. "Do you still do them?" I knew he meant the drugs.

"Just nicotine and caffeine. I haven't had a cigarette in days." I wanted one, but there was no way I was smoking in Jonathan Kent's truck. He probably had a nose like a bloodhound.

"Isn't that unhealthy?" It was cute how he was concerned for my health.

"My last physical was a year ago. They said I had pristine lungs. I've been smoking since I was thirteen." That ended that. I was half-asleep when he began to speak again.

"The things I don't tell you could put you in danger if you knew about them." It was the closest he'd ever come to admitting anything.

"I know." He wouldn't keep anything from me to hurt me, only to protect me. I held that thought in my mind as I fell asleep.


	14. Illusions

_My footsteps echoed as I ran barefooted through the dimly lit halls. My feet slapped against the linoleum floor, which was white with a gray marbling. It looked plain to deceive the rest of the world into thinking that it was a normal mental institution. I'd seen the truth behind the lies, and they knew that. I was running for my life. My father would be told that there was some kind of horrific accident and that I had regressed to a human vegetable._

_I heard the dogs' claws clicking rapidly against the floor. They weren't far behind. The sound of their throaty barks and growls put fear in my heart. And then there were the calls. The ones that told me that they were coming for me, sometimes inside my head and sometimes in my ears echoing through the halls. They said that I couldn't hide. I was the only bald girl in this place. They would find me eventually. I should just turn myself in now, that terrifying, male voice said, before I got hurt. They were going to hurt me either way._

_The only place I could think of that might fool the dogs was the kitchen. I took the set of stairs that said "Employees Only" and rushed down them. I tripped a few times because I was running, but at the bottom, I had to jump past the rest. I heard the door creak open and pulled open the door at the bottom of the stairs at the same time so they wouldn't hear. I quieted my breathing and waited for the door to close again before continuing on to the kitchen. It seemed to take an eternity, but it finally happened, and I raced off to the kitchen._

_The steel doors had signs on them that I paid no attention to. Everything in the oversized kitchen was stainless steel, and none of the lights were on. I kept it that way. I looked through the sliding metal cabinets until I found one with a few large bags of rotten hamburgers in it. I climbed inside. It was a tight fit, and I felt claustrophobic, but the cabinet was less threatening than the men and the dogs. At fifteen years old, my body was smaller than an adult's, and I fit behind the bags without seeing the top of the compartments._

_The smell was absolutely unbearable. It was like rotten eggs and rotten meat, and there were a few flies buzzing around in there. I frowned in disgust, but I had to try to stay as still as possible. I heard the kitchen doors open and slid the door to my compartment shut slowly and silently. The flies were attracted by my sweat and flew around me. They tickled my skin, and I had to stop myself from slapping them away. It would only bring unnecessary attention to my hiding place._

_I hugged myself close to what was likely going to be tomorrow's meal for the patients who wouldn't know the difference and those who couldn't afford better food. I watched the small slit where the outer world was visible. It was at the end of one of the hand grips used to open the compartment. Through it, I saw a German Shepherd with drool hanging from its jowls pass the compartment. I saw the legs of a man in a white uniform follow it. I covered my mouth with my hands to keep from making any noise when the dog whimpered and started scratching at the compartment. I took a deep breath and tried to steady my fears as the door slid open._

_I crouched down as far as I could against the cold metal. The dog sniffed the bag, and those had to be the longest five seconds of my life. "Goddamn dog, get out of there," the man muttered and kicked the dog. I heard it yelp and almost felt sorry for it. It was only doing what it was told. The compartment slid shut again, and I let out the deep breath I'd been holding. I lay there for what seemed like hours until I was certain that the danger had passed. I climbed out and took a breath of fresh air that I was grateful for. _

I woke with a start, twenty-one years old and sweating beneath my silk sheets. The dream had been so vivid that my heart was still pounding when I got up and got in the shower. It was a cold shower to bring me back to reality. The phantom tingle of flies on my skin and the gag in my throat from the smell of rotting meat were hard to erase. The foul stench made my eyes tear up, and I could swear that the bag was right in front of me again. My experiences in Belle Reve had been less than pleasant, and the only thing that stopped them was the fact that my father happened to notice that my paranoid delusions were getting worse in the hospital instead of better.

Hospitals were supposed to help people. At least, that was what the rest of the world thought. After Belle Reve, I absolutely hated any kind of hospital. They were supposed to be treating my paranoid personality disorder, which had been the diagnosis of at least four different psychiatrists, with anti-anxiety medication and psychotherapy. The things they did were far from it. I tried to stifle the memories before they ruined my day, but they were persistent. I had to actively try and have a good work ethic today.

When I returned to my room, the digital clock on my night stand said that it was four o'clock in the morning. It wasn't too early to go in to work. I managed the place, and Lionel didn't place any restrictions on when I could go in and out. It would've been bad for business if he did. I got dressed in dark blue designer jeans and a purple silk top. I chose the wig that had my hair in a ready-made ponytail. Before I could put on my makeup, I heard a clatter in the hall.

I hit the hidden button for security under my night stand and ventured out into the hallway. I had the urge to call out, but that was one of the dumbest things I could have possibly done. I've learned from all the horror movies I've ever watched that it's better to stay absolutely quiet. My bare feet made no sound against the soft carpet, and I followed the small noises to my office. When I peered inside, I saw nothing. I risked walking further in to look on the second tier of the room, which held my personal library. There was no one on the stairs or in the library, and the glass-guarded balcony was empty.

I retrieved my gun from behind some of my favorite books on the shelf and held it tentatively by my side. I knew I'd heard something. One moment, there was no one. The next, there were four men dressed all in black and wearing ski masks standing in my office. I pointed the gun at one of them. "Stop." When they kept moving towards the walls, I shot one in the knee. It was a perfect shot, but the figure showed no sign of pain and only grinned as he disappeared into the walls with the others. Was I hallucinating?

My security team rushed in with guns ready, and I could only stare blankly at the unoccupied space. My head of security, Cecilia, ordered to have the castle checked for intruders. The team split up while she checked the office and the library. She was a statuesque blonde with blue eyes and had a good eye for betrayal. She kept my team in line. She was loyal to me. When she finished checking the space, she placed her gun in its holster.

"It's clear, Miss Luthor." When her Nordic features examined me, I found concern in them. "What happened?" I had to think carefully before answering. She didn't challenge my authority in the moments that I took to gather my wits. She only waited patiently for my answer.

"I heard noises from the bedroom. When I entered the room, I saw four men in ski masks." I remembered shooting at one of them and tried to follow the trajectory through my line of vision. To help me visualize, I pointed the gun again. My near-perfect memory gave me a flash of the man grinning, and when I examined what was behind his leg in my mind's eye, I saw the wood paneling behind my desk.

I walked across the room. A glistening bullet allayed my fears that I was hallucinating, because it wasn't glittering silver. It was the glitter of dark blood dripping from the bullet onto my carpet. I crouched down to examine it more closely. I could've sworn that it had gone through him. Maybe it had, and he just didn't notice the pain. They could walk through walls. What would stop him from letting the bullet pass through his leg?

"Get this cleaned up. File a report with the police, and give them the bullet so they can take a blood sample. I shot one of them in the leg." Cecilia was taking mental notes and nodding when I turned to look at her. From her expression, I could tell that she could sense something was missing from my explanation.

"How did they get out?" I gave her the patented Luthor glare that told her not to ask any more questions. The radio on her hip beeped, and I heard several of my employees report that the castle was clear. It settled my mind very little. I returned to my room and put on makeup. I had to look presentable at work, but I also had to put the men in their place. Some of them resented that their boss was a woman.

I went in to work and acted as if nothing had happened. I chatted a little with Gabe and asked about his daughter, Chloe, like a good employer would. Gabe was a friendly man who didn't resent me because of my heritage, and I appreciated him for that. Even though it was probably considered a sin for a Luthor to do, I socialized with him on a regular basis.

In the middle of an important report, my phone rang. I answered it with the usual company greeting, but it surprised me to hear Clark's voice on the other end.

"How are you? I saw the police at the castle on my way to school." I didn't bother to point out that the castle wasn't on the route to school, because he'd probably done it to check on me.

"I'm fine, Clark. It was just a couple of intruders." Four was not a couple, but he didn't have to know that.

"What happened?" He was anxious to know details. It was exactly what I wanted to avoid, but I assured myself that I could tell him what really happened.

"I heard noises in my office while I was getting ready for work. I went in there to see what was going on. One minute, there was no one, and the next, there were men in the room with me. They just disappeared into the walls." I looked at my door to make sure it was closed. "It sounds crazy, I know."

"It's not crazy. This is Smallville, remember?" he soothed. All the tension in my body began to melt with the sound of his voice. "Do you remember anything specific about them?"

"Not really. It looked like they might've had tattoos on their arms, but their sleeves were covering them." I went over the scene in my mind again and remembered that they were carrying bags. It didn't strike me that they might've been in the safe before, but they probably had been. "I suppose I should see if they took anything from the safe."

"I should come over when you get home in case they come back." My first instinct was that he was being overprotective, but on second thought, he was right. If they'd gotten a good score from my safe one time, why wouldn't they do it again?

"I don't want to take up time you could be spending with your friends. We're hanging out Friday." Even so, I hoped that he would come over. I would feel safer, even if Cecilia was the best security guard in the state.

"This is an emergency. Besides, I like spending time with you." His voice had a shy tone to it. He definitely liked what we did when we were spending time together. Ever since I'd gotten back from Metropolis, he'd been true to the stereotype of the horny teenager. I wasn't complaining.

"Alright. I suppose you can come over. I'll be done with work at five." It cut my work day a little shorter than usual, but I was already giving myself an extra hour so that I could finish up. I wasn't supposed to be here past four, but Lionel didn't complain.

I spent the rest of the day buried in paperwork. As the manager, all of it fell to me. I could have delegated the work to the people who worked under me, but I didn't trust anyone but myself to do it. I only realized that it was past five when Clark appeared in my doorway. I looked down at my watch and saw that it was twenty past five.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Clark." I rushed to finish the report I was working on while he approached my desk and leaned down to kiss me.

"It's okay. I thought you might still be here." I put the report in the basket that meant it was finished and yelped when Clark picked me up threshold-style.

"What are you doing?" I asked through an undignified giggle.

"I'm whisking you away." He carried me out of the office and pulled the door shut.

"Clark, someone will see." I was already frantically looking around for my employees.

"No, they won't. There was no one here when I came in." He carried me to my car and set me on my feet by my car.

"Want to drive?" I flashed him a devilish grin and dangled the keys in front of him.

"Really?" His eyes were glistening with excitement as he looked at my violet Mercedes.

"Yeah, as long as you don't hit anyone." I grinned and got in the passenger's seat. He chuckled at the joke, but he was still in a bit of shock as he sat down in the driver's seat. "Move the seat back. You're taller than I am." When he couldn't find the switch, I reached over him and moved it for him. I knew that I was playing with fire when my arm brushed his denim-covered crotch. He pulled me into a long, deep kiss.

"Not here," I murmured against his lips.

"Tease," he grumbled. I knew that he wasn't serious.

"Adjust the mirror so you can see." I put on my seatbelt, and he did the same. "Do you know how to drive a stick?" I practically purred the question in his ear, and he blushed.

"Yeah. The truck has a stick shift." As if he wanted to prove it, he backed out and started driving.

"You can go faster. If you get a ticket, I'll pay for it." The adrenaline rush made Clark grin when he hit eighty.

We got to my castle without getting a ticket. My first objective was to check the safe. Clark's sex drive went on standby for a few minutes as I opened my safe.

I was right. They had taken a lot of the jewels, diamonds, and money that I kept locked up. When Clark made a move to enter the safe, I stopped him. "Don't. I have meteor rock in here." He stayed by the doorway while I took mental inventory of everything that wasn't there. My heart almost stopped when I remembered the disk.

I fought to keep my face calm as I internally panicked. The disk allowed me to hack into the Luthorcorp database. If it was gone, someone knew that I was breaking into Lionel's virtual bank. They wouldn't be able to get in without the password, but now I was involved. I had to find these assholes before they found out what was on that disk. Clark's voice startled me out of my reverie. "Do you want to call the police and tell them?"

"I'll do it later." I put the code in, and the safe closed. The shelf of books slid back into place and hid its location. "I have more important things to do." I smiled and lead him over to the couch. He sat down, and then I sat in his lap.

I didn't plan on calling the police yet. I needed to find the bastards, get my disk out of their hands, and then order a raid on the place. They would find my stolen jewels and nothing suspicious on my part. As long as they had the disk, they had leverage. I hated it.

Clark was quickly kissing all the animosity out of me. I ran my hands over his jaw to feel the stubble there, which was such a contrast to my own smooth skin. They slid back into his silky hair, and I put all my effort into kissing him. His large hands cupped my breasts. I had missed how he made me feel, because I knew that there was love behind his actions. Pure, unadulterated love that I could enjoy without feeling perverse. The rest of the world might disagree with our relationship, but I saw past the fifteen-year-old farm boy. He was so much more than that.

The phone rang and interrupted my bliss. Clark groaned and leaned his head back against the couch while I checked the caller ID. "It's your parents." It made me wonder if he told them that he was coming over here, but then again, I was no role model for listening to parents. I handed him the cordless phone and waited while he answered it.

"Hello? Hey, Dad." He gave me a pointed glare when I started quietly kissing his neck. "I'm just hanging out with her. She had some intruders this morning." I licked the hollow of his neck and watched his Adam's apple bob up and down when he swallowed. "I don't care what other people think. We're just friends." I started to unbutton his shirt, and he raised an eyebrow at me. He barely withheld a groan when I started sucking on one of his flattened nipples. I traced his ripped abs with the tips of my fingers. "I'll be home soon, okay?" He sounded annoyed. There was probably some protest from the voice on the other end, but Clark hung up the phone anyway. "I can't believe you did that. Now, every time I hear my Dad's voice, this is what I'm going to think of."

"Aw. I'm sorry for traumatizing you," I teased. I undid his jeans, and he slid them down. He was wearing red boxers.

"I'm sure you'll find some way to make it up to me." Maybe Jonathan was right, and Clark was spending too much time with me. He removed my shirt and bra in a breeze that made my nipples harden. It took my breath away.

"Wow. Sometimes, I forget how fast you are." Clark's hands froze on my hips. "Oops. Sorry." My voice was flat, but I did mean it a little.

"How did you know that?" His eyes were innocent and wide.

"I have eyes, Clark. You slip up sometimes." He gave me an injured look. "It's okay. I'm not going to tell anyone. I just had the mansion swept for bugs. Your secret is safe."

"I just..." He looked down with a blush. "No one knows except for my parents."

"You're special. I knew that from the moment I hit you with my car." He opened his mouth to deny it, but I stopped him with my eyes. "Don't lie to me. That's the only thing that bothers me," I said softly before I gave him a tender kiss.

"I'm sorry." I believed him. I got up and retrieved my clothes so that I could get dressed. "Are you angry?"

"No. I have a meeting I can't miss." I bent down to give him a long kiss. "We can fool around tomorrow, okay?" I smiled when I remembered. "I'll give you your birthday present."

That made him smile. It wasn't the toothy grin that I loved, but it was the small, reserved smile. "Okay."

"Now, go home before your father shoots me." I grabbed my purse and headed to Cecilia's office. I heard her voice talking on the phone, so I opened the door quietly. When her blue eyes fell on me, she ended the call quickly.

"What can I do for you, Miss Luthor?" I went to her side of the desk and eased myself onto the wood.

"I need you to find our intruders." I saw a questioning look in her eyes at my demeanor, but she was smart enough not to ask questions.

"The police have been on it. They ran the blood through their database, but nothing came up. The guy doesn't have a record." I shouldn't have been surprised.

"And the police decided to release all of this information to you?" I smiled knowingly. She shifted her eyes.

"I hacked into their system. They should've let me know that. I _am _your head of security." Her icy eyes were blazing with intensity.

"I appreciate your tenacity. I want a list of all the pawn shops near Smallville." She got a piece of paper and started writing the addresses.

"That's easy. There's only two. Both of them are fairly down-and-dirty." She tore the excess off the paper and handed it to me. I folded it and put it in my pocket.

"I want you on standby. I might need you again." She gave a sharp nod, and I went out the room to go upstairs and change. I grabbed a blonde wig to replace my auburn one. The bangs would help to hide my identity. I went to the back of my closet to the leather and lace to retrieve a maroon corset and black leather pants. All of it hugged my body and accentuated my features. I decided on a pair of maroon heeled boots and darkened my make-up to match my clothes. I made sure to put on plenty of eye liner and lipstick. I put on a choker and a few bracelets and removed my thousand-dollar watch in favor of a cheap black one.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

_I grinned at my reflection. The outfit was perfect for going out clubbing, and I didn't want to disappoint Amanda tonight. Usually, it wasn't worthwhile to date. I could have fun with anyone. I didn't like attachment. But Mandi was different._

I snapped back to the present. It had been a while since I thought of her. Now was not the time. I put on sunglasses for good measure.

I went down to the garage and selected a nondescript black car with tinted windows. It was one of the only cars without a vanity license plate. The two pawn shops weren't far away. One was in the middle of Smallville, and the other was on the outskirts of town. I went to the one in town first. The neon lights were an eyesore. I went inside anyway.

They didn't have any of my things in the windows, so maybe they were being sold privately to keep the police from suspecting anything. I couldn't imagine four men wanting to keep jewelry instead of selling it for cash. I locked my car. This wasn't a friendly part of Smallville, if there was such a thing.

A portly, balding man behind the counter was watching Cops. He cackled at a man getting pepper sprayed right in the eyes. I put on a smile when he finally noticed me. I followed his gaze from my breasts to my hips and back up again. "Hey. Do you have anything that sparkles?"

If he was suspicious, he was too distracted by my body to notice. He cleared his throat after a moment of ogling and reached down behind the counter. He pulled out some knock-off jewelry like the gold chain around his neck. "These are high quality. Fresh imported from Africa."

I leaned over the counter and played with the silver chains hanging from my choker. "Those look like the latest fashion at Wal-Mart. Show me the real stuff." I slid a fifty onto the counter. He gave me a considering look and pulled out one of the necklaces from Egypt. I knew those diamonds.

"Forty thousand." It was a lot less than I had gotten it for, but I would have to pay twice if I wanted it back.

I whistled. "That's a steep price. I think I deserve to know about the previous owner for that much."

He motioned his head towards me. "Show me the money."

I unzipped my purse and threw it on the counter. Inside were blocks of hundreds. He started to reach inside, but I smacked his hand away and pulled the purse back towards me. "Where did you get it?"

"Short guy with brown hair came in today at about ten in the morning. He had a bunch of tattoos. He was a cheeky bastard. He wouldn't take anything less than twenty k." Ouch. If only they knew how priceless the diamond was. I wanted it back.

"Do you remember what kind of car he was driving? The color, the make, anything?" I was operating on sheer luck now. It wasn't likely that they were going to unload more of the jewelry today.

"It was an old Mustang. Restored. They painted it a shit color, though. Orange. Looked like a '67." I took a block of money and gave it to him.

"Thanks." I took the diamond necklace, put it safely in the locked compartment under the passenger's seat, and called Cecilia. I didn't stick around the pawn shop. Instead, I drove aimlessly until Cecilia could tell me something.

"Cecilia Steinn."

"I have the car."

"Great. Give me a second." I knew that she was hacking into the DMV database to match the owner to the car. We could probably get an address if these punks kept their registration current. The sheriff was stiff on updated plates. "Okay. What is it?"

"An old Mustang. It might be a '67, and it's orange." I waited with bated breath. I remembered to pay attention to the road.

"I have a name and address. Wade Mahaney. It's a warehouse on the outskirts of Smallville." She rattled off the address and directions to get there. I did a u-turn and started the long drive. It took forty-five minutes of tense silence to get there. It was completely dark outside, so I turned off my headlights and coasted the car over grass instead of the gravel road. It was a large, abandoned warehouse that might've been used by a company like Luthorcorp fifty years ago, but now it seemed empty. The orange Mustang was parked in the driveway.

I pulled around the back where there were no cars and waited. I heard the pounding of loud music and drunken shouts from inside. I could have appeared to join the party, but I had a feeling that this group was too closely-knit for that to work. I grabbed a blanket from the compartment that led to the trunk, wrapped it around me, and fell asleep in the back seat with the doors locked and the alarm set.


	15. The Last Straw

_Sweat dripped from every pore of my body. I wasn't out yet. Every minute I spent inside this hellhole was another minute for them to find me. I hadn't been on my medication for twelve hours. It was making the situation worse. I could no longer tell what was real and what wasn't anymore._

_The corpses walking around were most likely not real. The only problem was that they coughed, smoked cigarettes, and walked like the guards did. My mind was playing games with me. I was pressed against the brick wall where it was the darkest watching the spotlight sweep back and forth across the field separating me from freedom. And then there was the barbed wire fence that stood at least fifteen feet tall. There was an electrical current running through it. I could feel it in the air._

_When the spotlight moved from directly in front of me, I started to run. I had to crouch low to the ground so that no one would see me, but I also had to be fast enough to avoid the giant light in the sky. The dirt crumbling beneath my feet mixed with rocks made it hard to keep a decent pace. I reached the fence and started to climb._

_I reached as high as I could and grabbed on. I gritted my teeth when I got shocked and grabbed on with the other hand and both of my feet. I was feeling the full force of the fence's charge, and it was making sounds that I could barely hear. I also heard shouts, and I was bathed in the white light that I dreaded._

_I got to the top and forgot about the barbed wire. I just wanted out, like a wild animal trapped in a cage. I had no logic. I only had whatever fight was left in me. I grabbed the very top of the fence, and the barbs cut into my fingers and palms. Blood made my grip slippery, but I used my feet to get myself over. The only problem was that now my wrists were tangled in the barbed wire. I shrieked in pain when my feet slipped on the fence, and my caught wrists were the only thing holding me up._

_I tried to move my weight, but the barbs only dug deeper. One was half an inch into my palm, and my other wrist was dripping blood. I used my feet to get back on the fence and screamed at the higher voltage. I kicked off of the fence and pulled all my weight down. The barbs cut through my skin and literally cut me loose, and I fell fifteen feet to the dirt. My thigh burned from landing on it, and I saw a large bruise already starting to form and swell._

_My tongue was bleeding. I must've bitten myself when I got electrocuted. My body wanted to give up, and tears streaked down my face, but I knew that I had to run. There was a jeep making its way through the open gates, and I couldn't outrun it. I felt a pinprick in my neck, tripped over my feet, and landed face-first in gravel._

I awoke to the sound of the engine of a Mustang starting up and tires squealing over gravel. I heard rocks being kicked up by the tires and probably damaging the paint. Oh well. Orange was a shit color for a '67 Mustang anyway. I stretched out in the backseat of my car. I hadn't slept in a car in a long time, but it didn't seem to hurt my body any. If anything, I was only a bit stiff. My mind was worse for the wear, but there was nothing I could do about that. The nightmares were coming again and again. I wanted to start using so I could get some sleep, but I knew that addiction was a broken floorboard. If I didn't watch closely enough, I would fall through into the deepest part without a second's hesitation.

I was sweating. I hated reliving my experiences. It was times like this that made me crave Clark's warm embrace. I looked into the rearview mirror to make sure my appearance was unchanged. I fixed a few smears of makeup and then got out of the car. If I needed to protect myself, there was a knife in my boot. I hoped that whoever was here wouldn't be coming back for a while. I didn't lock my car in case I needed a quick escape. I remembered too many nights fumbling with keys and dropping them. I put them in my pocket and opened the door to the warehouse.

It was a clunky, sliding piece of metal that shouldn't have qualified as a door. It was probably so that they could hear anyone trying to get inside. I made sure to close it fully before continuing on cautiously. The first room was the largest. It had couches and smelled like beer and vodka. There was a big-screen television in the middle of all that mess, and it looked like it was a recent addition. There was also a kitchen of sorts. I started checking the cabinets.

Most of them were empty, but some held packaged and canned food like Spaghettio's and instant meals. I came to a safe. It wasn't very obvious that it was a safe, because it looked like the other cabinets. I knocked on the metal to test its density. It was pretty thick. That was no doubt where they were hiding my disk. There was no combination lock. They wouldn't need it if they could reach through it, would they? It was time to move on to the next room.

This one was considerably more interesting. I saw a reclining chair and a machine used for tattooing. I remembered trying to get a tattoo once, but it scabbed and fell off of my skin. My skin wouldn't hold the ink. When I picked up the mechanism, I was intrigued by the ink loaded into it. It was bright green. I was almost positive that it was a meteor rock solution of some sort. Perhaps that was where they got their unique abilities. I didn't have to worry about diseases, but I sterilized the needle anyways.

I sat down and experimentally pressed the pedal used to control the machine. The needle started moving slowly at first and faster when I put more pressure on the pedal. I attained a steady pace before I put the needle to the skin on the inside of my right wrist. For the day it took the tattoo to fall off, it could be easily hidden by a watch or bracelet. The pain was not overwhelming. It was done in less than three minutes. I had a well-done, simple, and tiny tattoo of 'CK' on my wrist. I put the machine down and stood up to look in the dirty mirror.

The more time that passed, the more my heart raced. It was like being on meth. I was dizzy. I could swear that my eyes were laced with glowing green. When I tried to take a step, my foot went through the floor. After a few muttered expletives, I lifted it up and focused on solidifying my foot. It worked. I had to concentrate with absolute focus to get to the next room. I didn't know how much time I had or how long the drug worked. Reaching into the safe was easy. My hand passed right through it.

I had to focus on solidifying my fingers only while they were inside the safe in order to get the disk. I felt it with my fingertips first, but the rest of my fingers went right through it. My heart wouldn't slow down. I couldn't have the calm I usually did. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Once I grasped the disk, I tried to make it intangible. It didn't work the first time, and I heard it clatter when I tried to pull it through.

I needed to do this. Lionel couldn't find out that I was skimming his account for money. I couldn't imagine the repercussions. He would start by taking me far away from Smallville and keeping me away from Clark. I couldn't lose him now. I tried it again with renewed determination, and I got it out of the safe. The sound of the front door opening gave me a jolt. I slipped the disk into the middle of my corset. It wouldn't fall. I was thanking whatever higher power there might be that there was a back door.

I got the knob opened on the second try, and when I pulled it closed, I ran into a body. I didn't bother trying to see who it was. I just ran to my car, opened the door, and got inside. I heard the air snap as something sliced through it, and there was a sudden, burning pain in my chest. I didn't care. I started the car and went as fast as I possibly could. When I got the courage to look in the rearview mirror, I saw four men clambering into the Mustang.

"Fuck." I didn't even want to look down. I kept my eyes on the road and both hands on the wheel, no matter how much it hurt. I didn't realize how many bumps there were in the dirt until the car kept bouncing and jostling my wound. It stung every time, and I could only grit my teeth and hope that the pain would go away. The Mustang was still in the mirror, and I made a quick turn onto a side road and escaped through a corn field. I hit the gas hard.

I didn't see them anymore. I kept checking anyways. It took an unbearable fifteen minutes to find my way back to the castle. By then, I was shivering. I put it into park when I pulled up to the front door. It was only then that I looked down at the gaping bullet wound in my chest. Luckily, it was on my right side and not anywhere near my heart. The blood was pouring out of me. I grabbed my phone and found Toby's number in my address book. I didn't want to think about what would happen if she wasn't there.

"Lex?" I couldn't grasp words for a few seconds, but she kept repeating my name.

"I've been f-fucking shot," I finally got out. "I need you here _now_."

"The jet will take five minutes. Hang in there, hon." I didn't have the energy to close the phone. Someone opened the door.

"Miss Luthor?" It was Cecilia. "Oh my god, are you alright?"

I wanted to make some witty retort, but I could only shake my head from side to side. She started barking orders at my butler to get me a towel. She single-handedly carried me inside. I hissed when my right arm moved, but she was doing the best she could. I was comfortable on the couch in my office, but it hurt like hell when Cecilia pressed the towel to my wound. I let a chain of my favorite words escape my mouth, and Cecilia raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't even know that was a word." She tried to smile.

"It is now," I growled. I remembered the disk and pulled it from under my corset. It was still there. "Put this in the back-up safe." They might be able to go through walls, but they couldn't see through them. I was determined to keep it now that I had it. My hand replaced hers for the minute that she was gone, but she was quickly by my side again. I started losing time. One moment, Cecilia was talking to me quietly, and the next, it was Toby leaning over me and looking at the bullet.

I remembered why I wanted to date her. She had long, black hair that gleamed in the light and beautiful brown eyes. She was part Native American, but she had disowned that life a long time ago. She was impossibly beautiful. She said that the only reason she wouldn't date me was because she wanted to keep business separate from pleasure. I understood. That didn't stop me from admiring her while she was analyzing the injury.

"The bullet is still in there. That's probably why you're not dead yet. You've still lost quite a bit of blood." I noticed Toby's unique attire. It was a skintight black dress that didn't leave much to the imagination. While she dug through her supply bag, I took the opportunity to talk to her.

"Did I interrupt a party?" She gave a hint of a smile in her eyes.

"It was nothing important, dear. This is going to hurt." She didn't waste any time digging into the bleeding wound with what looked like a pair of tweezers. The burn was renewed, and I heard blood sloshing. I was completely nauseated, and when she actually pulled the bullet out, my entire body tensed in pain.

"FUCK! GOD_DAMNIT_!" I couldn't help screaming. It was the only way to relieve the tension from the pain right now. My fingers were clenched tight on the nearest piece of fabric, and it was only when I looked at them that I realized that my fingers were halfway inside the couch. When did this stuff wear off, and why couldn't the bullet have gone through me? I was frustrated at fate. It was dealing me a bad hand.

"Shh, it's alright, hon. I've got some pain relievers in my bag," Toby murmured. Her hand smoothed over my moist forehead. Her eyes were deep and pleasant to look into.

"Vicodin. I want Vicodin." I was begging. Toby was sterilizing her tools. She had to stitch up my skin.

"We talked about this," she said in a deceptively soothing voice. "Take these."

I took the pills. I would rather be in the foggy haze of Vicodin, but she was politely refusing. I was tense the entire time she was stitching. The sudden sound of my father's voice didn't help.

"What is going on?" He looked down at me, and there was blatant disgust in his eyes. "What have you gotten yourself into this time?" His tone was sharp and cutting.

I groaned. "I'm not talking to you right now. How the hell did you get in here?" How did he even know what was going on? His appearance couldn't be random. Someone had alerted him to the fact that I had been hurt.

"You're not the one making decisions here. Not anymore." Toby was quietly minding her own business and continuing her work. "I'm sick of cleaning up your messes. You're returning to Metropolis with me this instant. You will not come back to Smallville."

"I'm an adult. I can control my own life, Dad." He sounded absolutely livid.

"Yes, well, I can see that. Surely getting shot was on your schedule tonight," he retorted. "I won't allow you to make a mess of your life."

"It's not my fault." I was being stubbornly illogical. It had been my cavalier, idiotic idea to go in myself instead of sending the police, but the police would've found the disk. My father had friends on the force. Toby had finished sewing, and she taped gauze onto my chest.

"Change the bandages every day. Keep it clean." She looked at Lionel from the corner of her eye.

"I'll send payment to your account." Toby nodded and slipped out of the room. Lionel was still furious.

"Get out," he snapped at the rest of my security team. Only Cecilia stopped to look at me, and I nodded my head. She shut the doors behind her.

"Are you happy now?" I sighed. I didn't like the way he was looking at me. He was approaching the couch, and his eyes were glittering.

"No. Come back to Metropolis, Lex. Enough of this rubbish." The back of his hand ran over my cheek. I flinched away from him, but it caused a flare-up in my injury.

"I won't." I needed something logical to persuade him to let me stay. The only problem was that my body was secreting endorphins that made my mind cloudy. "The Luthorcorp plant has been more lucrative than ever."

"Yes, but in the meantime, you've been shot, stabbed, and beaten. You haven't had this much suffering since you were a teenager. Why would you want to stay here?" His eyes were gleaming with the answer.

I didn't say anything. I was a lamb being led to the slaughter. I couldn't stop it.

"Oh, yes. The farm boy. I wonder if Jonathan Kent knows that you're fucking his son." I glared.

"Who's going to tell him? You?" I let out a short laugh. "He would shoot you before you could step foot on his property."

"I think some provocative pictures of you and his son would be enough to convince him." He placed his knees on the couch on either side of my legs. He hovered over me in a position that he knew would make me anxious. "I'm going to ask you one more time. Either you come to Metropolis willingly, or I'll force you."

"What are you going to do if I don't?" I stared straight into his eyes in defiance. "Rape me?"

He slapped me in the face. My cheek stung like it was on fire, and I knew that it would swell. "Whore. Did you get all dressed up for Clark?" I hated the way that he said Clark's name. "Leather." He ran his fingers up my thighs. "Where are the whips and chains?"

I didn't answer. He placed his hand on my wound and pushed. I tried not to shout. Instead, tears came to my eyes. I tried not to gag as a strong wave of nausea overcame me. He got up. The action made me nervous. Lionel was the type who never quit, especially when it came to me.

"Take off your top and turn over." He undid his belt. It was leather with a silver buckle. I had a flash of lying in bed for days in agony.

"No." My voice shook.

With a snap of the belt, the buckle tore into the skin of my cheek. I shrieked and held my hand to my bleeding cheek.

The door opened, and everything seemed to freeze. I only heard my own breath. I was hyperventilating. Clark looked from Lionel to me, and then down at the belt in Lionel's hand.

"She's coming with me." Clark's voice was like thunder in the quiet room.

Lionel laughed. "The boyfriend to the rescue? Think about it, Clark. I could--"

Clark punched him, and Lionel went down like a sack of bricks. He was unconscious on the floor. I felt Clark's arms around me, and with a rush of air, we were in another room. It was disorienting, and my nausea multiplied tenfold. I covered my mouth, and suddenly we were in the bathroom. I vomited into the porcelain bowl in front of me. I felt Clark's large hand rubbing my back. I cleaned my mouth with water, and Clark led me back to the room.

It must've been his room. Everything was decorated in blue and red. He laid me down on his bed and put his hand on my cheek. I hated looking into his eyes after what he'd just seen.

"Are you okay?" Before I could respond, I saw Martha Kent standing in the doorway. "Mom, she's hurt. Could you get some gauze?" She looked pale and shocked, but she nodded and went to get them.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He pressed a cold cloth to the area surrounding my cheek to clean up the excess blood.

"What do you have to be sorry about? I knew your father treated you like crap, but I didn't know how bad it was." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Clark, my secret--" My voice cracked. He didn't know the half of it. Martha returned to the room with medical supplies, so I decided to keep my mouth shut.

"Alright. I'm going to put some antibiotic on it so it doesn't get infected, then I'm going to put some gauze on it. This might sting a little." Martha reminded me of my mother. With her red hair, I might have been having flash backs to when my mother was alive. It did sting, but I was pretty numb from my bullet wound.

"Thank you. You didn't have to do this." Martha's finger tenderly swiped the clear gel on the deep wound.

"Any time." She smiled and put a small piece of gauze on my cheek. It must've looked ridiculous, but I didn't care anymore.

"She can stay with us, right, Mom?" I could see Clark's eyes pleading with his mother. "We can't let her go back to Lionel. He's the one that did this to her."

"Clark--" I started to warn, but Martha interrupted.

"Of course you can stay, Lex. I'll let Jonathan know what's going on." At least I knew who wore the pants in this family. Clark kissed my forehead.

"What happened to your chest?" he asked softly. He was smoothing back strands of hair that had stuck to my face.

"I got shot. It's sort of a long story." My eyelids felt heavy. Clark seemed to see that and pulled his blanket over me. He also pulled a chair up to the bed. "You could come sleep in the bed."

Clark chuckled humorlessly. "I think my dad would kill you."

"Oh. Right. I feel bad. It's your bed." He kissed my hand.

"I don't mind. You need to get some sleep." Five seconds after, I was out.

I awoke to the foggy realization that I wasn't in my room. My clothes and the gauze on my chest reminded me of what had happened. I groaned and stretched. I saw clothes sitting in Clark's chair. The pants were his mother's, and the shirt was one that he'd grown out of. I changed out of my corset and leather pants and immediately wanted to burn them. Maybe I would. I felt much more comfortable in the clothes provided to me.

I took off my wig by instinct before I went into the bathroom and washed my face free of all the makeup. It was cleansing for my skin as well as my soul. After drying my face, I went down the stairs as quietly as I could. I heard conversation in the kitchen. I could hear from the bottom of the stairs.

"--the hell is she doing here? They have hospitals that can take care of her better than you can." Jonathan's voice made me tense, but Martha's concerned one soothed my fears.

"She's already been treated. What kind of people are we if we send her back to that man?"

"He hit her with a belt, Martha. I might've done that to Clark if the buckle didn't shatter."

"You're forgetting that she's an adult. He's abusing her."

"It's none of our business. I don't want to get involved. It was wrong of her to drag Clark into this."

"You're missing the point, Jonathan. Lex is as much of a victim of Lionel as anyone."

"This isn't our problem. I didn't raise the girl."

"He touches her." My heart dropped to the floor. How did she know? I didn't want that information to be known by Clark, much less Jonathan. "Look at the way she acts around people. I didn't know it before, but if he physically abuses her, it's a probability that he goes further than that." She was a smart woman, but it really didn't take much to see it. The shell of ice I projected around other people was transparent to Martha because she saw me as a human instead of a Luthor. She cared about me. "She needs our help. She won't ask for it."

Jonathan was silent for a good minute. For sixty seconds, my heart raced, and I was holding back tears of embarrassment. I hid my face in my hands. "I didn't know it was that bad. When we found 'em in that cornfield, he wouldn't touch her. I thought, how could a man not hug his daughter after she's almost died?" He paused for a moment. "Are you sure?"

"He tore a chunk of skin from her face with a belt. I have no doubt that he could molest her without a second thought." Martha may have seemed like a simple farmer's wife to anyone else, but the woman held some serious insight into people. "She'll be safe with us. The safest place she can be right now is by our son's side." Her statement was ironic. I wondered if Martha knew the full extent of our relationship.

"Alright. She can stay as long as it's necessary." I'd never relinquished control of my life so badly. It felt liberating, but at the same time, I knew it wouldn't last. Nothing good ever did in my life. If anything, I was a pessimist. Instinct told me to scramble back upstairs when the front door opened, but I held myself still as Clark's eyes went right to me.

"I'm going upstairs," he said to his parents before mounting the stairs and picking me up effortlessly. I was careful not to make a sound until we were in his room with the door shut. "What were they talking about?" he murmured. I could feel his breath on my neck. Just having him there made me ten times calmer.

"Me. Your dad's going to let me stay." He ran one hand over my bare scalp. He was always fascinated by it. It made me think that maybe he had a bald fetish.

"Good. If he didn't, I would've had to come live at the castle. I have a feeling your father and I wouldn't have gotten along very well." I could see the angry gleam in his eyes. I was hesitant to tell him about what my father did, but the more I put it off, the worse I felt about it.

"I have to tell you something." He was hovering over me and using his arms to support himself.

"What is it?" He sensed my seriousness, and his eyes searched mine.

"My father. He did more than what you saw." I knew I was being vague. It took a moment for him to process what I was saying.

"Sexually?" I saw his eyes moisten, and he was clearly waiting for me to tell him that such a notion was ridiculous.

"Yes." What I could only describe as pure, unfiltered rage went through his face. I could see every muscle in his arms as his hands clenched into fists. I let my fingers trail over his face to get his attention and try to calm him down. "Being angry won't help."

"How long?" The answer would only piss him off more. I knew that, at this point, he might do something to hurt my father.

"It doesn't matter." His trembling hands grasped the blankets beneath me.

"How long has he been doing this to you?" I swallowed hard and tried not to cry.

"Since my mother died." Clark moved off of me in a blur of motion that would've been impossible to catch if I hadn't been watching. "Clark, you can't hurt him. If violence worked, don't you think I would've done it a long time ago?" He stopped in the middle of the room and looked back at me with the most sorrowful eyes I've ever seen.

"I can't let him hurt you again." I could see that he was near tears.

"Hurting him won't fix anything." I had to admit to myself that I had taken pride in Clark for punching my father, but I didn't want him to kill anyone. "Don't let Lionel be a dead body weighing on your conscience."

He said nothing. He knew that I was right, but I could tell he still wanted to hit the nearest object.

"Come here and lie down with me." He hesitated for a moment, but then he lay down on the bed next to me. We were facing each other. I softly kissed his lips. "My father has fucked up my life beyond repair, and I won't let him do the same to yours. You're too young for this."

"I'm sixteen," he protested. "I can protect you."

"You're never going to be able to protect me every minute of every day." I lovingly kissed his fingertips and did everything I could to get his mind off of it. I was kissing his neck when I heard his breathing even out into a sleep rhythm. Moments later, I fell asleep with him.


	16. A Little Slice

It was morning when I woke up alone in Clark's bed. He must've been at school. I growled at the clock, because I didn't feel comfortable in the Kent house without him. It was only nine o'clock, so I had to wait hours before he was home. What was a Luthor to do on a farm? According to the wound on my chest, I could do nothing at all, because it immediately felt unpleasantly tight when I stood. My first trip was to the bathroom.

After I finished relieving myself, I washed my hands and opened the door halfway before glancing at myself in the mirror. The piece of gauze on my cheek reminded me that I had wounds to clean. The one on my shoulder could wait until I took a shower, but the one on my cheek could be cleaned easily. I peeled off the bloody gauze and saw a patch of raw skin. It was still rather red, but at least it wasn't bleeding anymore. I carefully washed my face and patted that area dry with a hand towel.

I was about to leave the bathroom when I saw Jonathan looking at me. I might have denied it, but I physically twitched backwards in surprise. "Mr. Kent, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were waiting." I was pretty sure that they only had one bathroom, and the last thing I needed was accusations that I was tying it up. I saw the sympathy in his eyes that I wasn't supposed to know about when I jumped, but I chose to ignore it. I didn't want any pity.

"That's alright, Lex." I could sense a warmth in the man who had so coldly hated me days before.

"I wanted to thank you for letting me stay here. I know what my father has done, but--" He put both hands in the air to silence me.

"Don't worry about it. I wanted to talk to you about something. Do you want some coffee?" I was unsure of what that meant. Either I was about to be shot, or he was going to ask me about what Lionel had done to me. Both options scared me.

"Sure." I followed him down the stairs, through the living room, and into the kitchen. I sat down at the table in what I hope wasn't Jonathan's chair as he took out the coffee and began preparing it. I noticed how different he was from my father. Jonathan seemed to lumber around and not care what other people thought of him while Lionel's every movement held a mood and purpose. Jonathan's tanned, calloused hands were different from my father's smooth, manicured ones. Clark's father was simply wearing a dirty red and black flannel shirt that was left unbuttoned with a white t-shirt underneath. His jeans were washed out from dirt. The only clean thing on the man were his socks. I suspected that Martha forced him to remove his boots before he stepped foot in her house.

The pot started brewing, and Jonathan took the seat diagonal from mine. His amber eyes gave me a long, measured look before he cleared his throat and prepared to talk. I was wringing my hands under the table. Clark's father made me nervous. I could handle a boardroom full of solemn-faced strangers, but Jonathan was an unknown variable. "I received an envelope last night with some pictures of you and my son."

My heart nearly stopped beating in that moment. My lips parted, ready to lay out some elaborate defense, but my mind stopped short. I could only say what was in my heart. "Mr. Kent, I'm in love with your son." There was no "I think" or "maybe." I knew that my heart belonged to the teenaged farm boy. Jonathan seemed to take in that statement with slow consideration. I hated being vulnerable, but I told the truth with my eyes.

"If you're looking for a fling, my boy isn't the right one for you," he warned. The newspapers hooked their claws into every single person who claimed to have dated me and exploited my personal life as much as possible. I was the resident playgirl of Metropolis, but I wasn't happy with that reputation. I liked the comforts of the Kent home.

"I know that, sir. I know how sensitive Clark is, and I wouldn't have done anything if he didn't return my feelings." That was the truth. I would have suffered for years on end yearning for a boy that I could never have. If he decided to fall in love with Lana Lang, I would step aside and let him go. It would be devastating, but I would do it for Clark's benefit.

"If you break his heart, I'm coming after you." It wasn't quite acceptance, but it was close to it. "I assume that you and Clark use...protection?" He winced. I could tell that he didn't even want to mention this in front of me, but I suspected that Martha had something to do with that.

"Actually, my father believes that I may be pregnant." Jonathan's face went into one hand, and I could tell that it took every iota of his being not to start yelling right then and there. His whole body was tense. "It was unexpected. He was...aggressive, to say the least." It was something he didn't want to hear, but since we were both getting the truth out, it might as well have been the full truth and nothing but.

"Girl, you are a mess," Jonathan sighed. His hand slid down to cover his mouth and tap lightly against his cheek while he thought. "Start using protection." I nodded with pink cheeks. Even I was a little embarrassed that I had neglected it for so long. "Martha never told me what happened to your cheek." I took a deep breath. Now was the time to start being honest, but I looked down at the table in shame as I spoke.

"My father wanted me to go back to Metropolis permanently. I refused, so he took off his belt and told me to turn over. When I didn't, he snapped the buckle at my face. It tore off a piece of my skin, sir. That was when Clark came in." The older man reddened. He scratched at the light blonde stubble on his cheeks and then ran his fingers through his sandy hair. Jonathan's facial features were weathered, to say the least, but I could read him better than I could my father.

"Martha thinks that there might be more to it than that. Is that true?" He looked up when I least expected him to. I had to fight back tears.

"Yes, sir. When my mother died, my father took me as a replacement. Every time I stepped out of line or whenever he felt like it, I was the one to satisfy him." I didn't expect Jonathan's blatant anger. He slammed his fist down into the table, which shook under the force of the blow. I jumped and gripped the table with anxiety.

"Goddamn that son of a bitch. How could a father even think about touching his daughter like that?" His tone was quiet and furious.

"I don't know, sir." It was barely audible.

"You won't have to worry about that under my roof." He was determined. It showed in his eyes. The coffee maker beeped, and he got up to pour us both a cup. I took a sip of steaming hot coffee and felt calmer than before.

"Thank you, Mr. Kent." I was surprised when he touched my hand. It wasn't the touch I was used to. There was no sexual innuendo there, only familial warmth.

"You can call me Jonathan. And enough with that 'sir' crap; I feel old enough already." I couldn't help but smile. I knew that it was a stroke of luck that Clark caught my father in action. I'd ended up in a seemingly impossible place, somewhere with a family who specialized in love instead of money and was willing to accept me.

I realized that I hadn't put my wig back on and I'd been talking to him without it the entire time. "I forgot to put my hair on. I hope it doesn't bother you." My father was absolutely repulsed by the vision of my baldness, but here, I just felt like returning to my natural state. I wanted to be able to relax here.

"Actually, I think you look better without it. The first time I saw you in the corn field, you looked like an awkward little girl without her hair, but you've grown into a striking young woman." He smiled. Smiles were precious treasures that were non-existent in the Luthor family. I only remembered receiving them from my mother. The room used to light up with her sunny smile, but she would never show it around Lionel.

"Thank you. My father hates that I don't have hair. He said that it was God's way of punishing me for my sins." Jonathan shook his head from side to side and took a gulp of his coffee.

"That man doesn't know anything about God." There were times in my teenage years that I firmly held the belief that my father was the devil. My father could quote the Bible all he wanted. There was nothing heavenly about what he'd done to me. "You don't have to pretend in this house." I appreciated it, but it also filled me with a sense of illogical worry. I had never been left to my own devices before with little rules on how to behave. Not with Lionel always talking about being worthy of the Luthor name.

"I can't thank you enough, but my father will do everything he can to try and coax me into coming back." I had a feeling that he would stop just short of giving the newspapers pictures of Clark and me together, because I was his daughter, after all. It was his reputation as well as mine on the line. "I've destroyed all evidence of Clark using his powers, so you don't have to be concerned about that."

My statement had sparked Jonathan's interest, and I cursed myself for slipping. His coffee must've gone down the wrong way, because he was suddenly coughing and sputtering. I wanted to pat him on the back, but I was still awkward with both of Clark's parents.

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't know all that much." I felt like I was horribly butchering my new place in the Kent household. This was why I was so skittish about these things. I was terrible at it, and I'd already managed to mess things up. I sighed heavily. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Jonathan finally responded when he caught his breath. "I just thought you didn't know."

I didn't know what to say. If I said that Clark had slipped a few times, he might worry that Lionel had pictures of these mistakes. If I said that Clark told me, I would be lying, and Clark would have no idea what Jonathan was talking about when the elder man lectured him about it tonight. "I didn't tell anyone." It was a true statement, although there were other people who could've pieced it together. My scientists and Nixon, namely, but I had Nixon by the balls, and I paid my scientists well enough for them to keep quiet.

I felt like I'd alienated him when he stood and refilled his thermos. He gave me a half-hearted smile and started heading for the door. "I've got more work to do." I shouldn't have opened my mouth. I mentally berated myself for it while I drank the rest of my coffee and then went into the family room to lie down on the couch and watch television. I wanted to call the plant and see how they were doing, but I trusted Gabe Sullivan to handle anything major. He would know how to run things. My father wouldn't sabotage his own business just to get back at me. Luthorcorp had always come before me on the food chain; why should he start caring now?

I didn't realize I had fallen asleep again until I heard clattering dishes in the kitchen. When I groggily opened my eyes, the aroma of savory food hit me all at once. My stomach rumbled in response to the scent. I noticed that someone had placed a pillow under my head and a blanket over my body. Either one of the Kents could've done it, but I had my money on Clark or Martha. When I looked into the kitchen, I saw my mother. I must've been caught in a state of half-dreaming and half-awake, because I could've sworn I saw her smile at me. Warmth rose inside me until the moment was broken by a dark-haired figure rushing to my side.

"Dinner's ready." Clark. Of course it was Clark. I could hear the concern in his voice. If he was trying to hide it, he wasn't doing a good job of it. "Are you alright?" I felt his warm hand on my cheek and made an effort to wake myself up. It usually wasn't this difficult, but I had been behind on my rest. Perhaps this was my body's way of catching up. I blinked several times and nodded before I gave Clark a heart attack. I rubbed my eyes and tried to sit up.

The pain went directly to my chest. I hated how tight the skin felt and how slowly it was healing. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been shot, so I wasn't sure how long this pain would last. Clark stayed right there and made sure that I was awake before I stood up. I wasn't quite alert yet, but time and good food would fix that. Martha's food smelled even better than the stuff my gourmet chef made at the castle. When I entered the kitchen, it seemed like it was still a dream when Martha Kent pulled me into a hug and kissed my unharmed cheek with a smile. It was such a motherly action that my eyesight blurred with tears before I blinked them away.

Clark led me to an extra chair that was pulled up next to his. It was close enough so that our thighs touched. I saw him blush when my leg brushed his and apologized under my breath. While Martha was setting the bowls and serving platters on the table, Jonathan came in through the back door and sat down at the head of the table. Apparently, working on a farm lasted all day. I was careful to avert my gaze. Everyone waited until Martha was seated, and then Clark immediately started grabbing things.

It was an enormous amount of food. There were two whole roasted turkeys, three large bowls of homemade mashed potatoes, two bowls of fresh corn, and a large cask of mushroom gravy. I was enchanted by the mere idea of it, but having it all in front of me was overwhelming. I felt Jonathan and Martha's eyes on me when Clark passed me the dishes. I nabbed a little bit of everything, and even that made for a big plate of food when it came to how much I usually ate. My cook had once compared me to a bird because I picked at my food. I took a bite of everything just to taste it.

"Thank you, Mrs. Kent. It's delicious." I could tell that she'd been anxiously awaiting my approval. A warm smile spread over her kind features, and her pale blue eyes sparkled with contentment.

"Oh, Lex, call me Martha. There's no need for formalities while you're here." I felt something really odd inside of me. I realized that this place felt like home. There was no place on Earth that felt like that since my mother died, but as I searched my own emotions, I found that it was true. I was here with the man I loved and the two people that loved him the most. I couldn't withhold a smile, and I saw Clark return it from the corner of my eye. My stomach was quickly filled to the point of slight discomfort. I managed to eat most of what was on my plate.

I was the first one finished, but I didn't mind. It was a comfortable atmosphere. I watched Clark down at least half of the meal with some astonishment. Jonathan and Martha simply ignored it, but I was amused by it. It made sense. If he was able to move that fast, his body would need extra nutrients and a fast metabolism. "I'm surprised Clark hasn't managed to eat you out of house and home," I teased. I bumped my knee against his playfully. He blushed in embarrassment.

"It's a good thing we live on a farm," Martha affirmed. She smiled knowingly when Clark protested much like a child would.

When Clark was finally full, Martha began a ritual of putting all of the leftovers in containers to be stored in the fridge and doing the dishes. "I can help."

Martha waved her hand as if to dismiss me. "I've had enough practice doing it myself, dear."

I half-smiled when Clark practically dragged me back into the living room. The television was a fairly good size, so when Clark suggested a movie, I accepted. In five minutes, we were watching Beowulf, the entirely new version that was done with computer graphics. I refrained from telling him exactly how historically inaccurate it was and simply curled into him with my head on his shoulder. His fingers intertwined with mine, and our lips touched. I could sense that he wanted to go deeper than that, but we both jumped at Jonathan clearing his throat. He'd come from the kitchen and sat down in the recliner, and I wondered if he'd done it deliberately so that we couldn't make out during the movie.

I expected a nasty visit from my father, but he never came. Perhaps he was finally accepting of the fact that he wouldn't step one foot on the Kent property without trouble. I didn't quite believe that, no matter how much I wanted to. I knew that somewhere, he was plotting my demise. He wanted me to suffer here so that I would come home to Metropolis. My heart was here with the Kents, who had taken me in as one of their own.

After Jonathan had fallen asleep in the recliner, Clark silently guided me upstairs. He closed the door to his room behind us, and before I knew it, I was lying flat on the bed with Clark's mouth on mine. He pulled my thighs up so that they were pressed against his, and I felt his throbbing cock even through the fabric of our clothes. His tongue moved passionately against mine, and I returned the kiss with just as much fervor. I hissed in pain when he pushed a little too hard and my shoulder struck his headboard. My wound flared up in fiery agony, and it showed on my face. "Are you okay? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

He was covering my face with gentle kisses, and he pulled me down away from the headboard. "It's okay. I'm fine." Hell, in the old days, I would love getting rough. It was because of that kink that I leaned up to renew the kiss. He groaned and continued to grind against me. I heard the fabric of my shirt tear, and Clark tossed the scraps aside. I gasped when his mouth enveloped one of my nipples, and my core was thrumming with arousal. "Oh, Clark, that feels so good."

"I was so horny through dinner," he admitted with a blush. It was funny that he blushed at that and then ran his tongue down the midsection of my slim abdomen. His tongue dipped in and out of my bellybutton in a sensation that sent ripples of pleasure through my lower body. "Just touching you makes me hard." His hand ran over my smooth scalp as he worked his way back up my torso.

"Do you have a condom?" It was a question breathed through heated moans. I tried to keep it down, because Clark's parents were downstairs. I hadn't had to worry about anything like that since I was young. It made me feel a little nostalgic.

"My mom made me take some." He pulled open the drawer of his night stand and fumbled for one of them.

"Good. Give me one." I could tell from his trembling hands that he wouldn't be able to open the wrapper. When he gave me one of them, he removed his shirt. I tore open the wrapper with my teeth, and I could tell from his eyes that he thought it was sexy. "I want you to fuck me as hard as you can. We have to keep it quiet, though."

His pupils were dilated from arousal, and I could tell that he wanted to rip the rest of our clothes off. I undid the clasp on my borrowed jeans and slid them down along with my thong. I kicked the rest of the fabric off. I was still holding the torn wrapper in my teeth when I got to his jeans. His swollen cock sprang free from its denim confines, and Clark quickly shucked them off. I took the condom out, made sure to squeeze the tip, and rolled it down his erection. He was painfully hard. "Lex, I don't want to hurt you," he whispered.

I could sense that he was just barely in control. I licked the shell of his ear and bit the lobe. "It's okay, Clark. I won't break." It seemed like that was the last straw for the poor boy, because he was guiding himself into me. He went slowly at first, but I lowered myself fast so that all of him was inside me. I shuddered with pleasure, and at the same moment, Clark lost any last semblance of control. His hands gripped my hips softly at first as he thrust in and out of me. He pulled himself almost all the way out and then pushed back in.

His thrusts increased in speed and harshness. I didn't mind. It was exactly what I wanted. I ran my hands through his silken hair and kissed him until my lungs were gasping for air. At one point, his hips became a blur, and I felt something I couldn't explain. I felt _whole_. I felt like I wanted to be nowhere else in my entire life except underneath this man. I arched my back and lost my breath when we both came. It was earth-shattering. For one inexplicable moment, it was like we were one entity, and I thought that I'd never made love before this, because this was truly amazing, and I never wanted it to end, and Clark and I were the only two people on Earth who mattered.

I came down from my orgasm slower than ever. My skin was moist with sweat, but I didn't want to let go of Clark's warmth. His hands were still on my hips, and when he finally peeled them away, there were bruises were his fingers had been. My whole body felt jarred, but at the same time, that had been the best sexual experience of my life.

"I'm sorry," Clark whispered. His tongue licked a trail from the hollow of my neck to my lips, and there he paused to gently kiss them. "Did I hurt you?"

I chuckled. "I think I'll live. That was amazing." I could see his eyes widening in disbelief.

"Really?" I forgot how young he was. He needed reassurance. I wiped a wet strand of hair from his forehead.

"Really. I know this sounds stupid, but it felt like destiny." Destiny, that which I treasured above all, was sex with my sixteen-year-old boyfriend after dinner with his parents. I'd never felt better in my life. I had a stupidly happy smile on my face. Clark moved to lie on his side next to me. His hand smoothed over my head, as if he were petting me. I would've objected had it not been as pleasurable as it was at that moment. The endorphins were still coursing through me, and his fingers were trickling over my skin like a steady stream of water. "I love you." It was barely a whisper. I knew he heard me.

"I love you too. I know you think that I'll grow out of it, that this is some kind of crush, but it's not. I've felt it ever since we met, Lex. We're destined for each other." I smiled and closed my eyes. I fell asleep with Clark's fingers lazily tracing my skin.


	17. Where There's Smoke

The next morning was better than the previous one. I awoke with my limbs entangled with Clark's in some sort of chaotic harmony that was the most comfortable position for both of us. Clark started to get up, but I pulled him back down. I knew that I didn't have any real strength against him, not when he'd ripped the roof off my car to save my life, but he allowed me to pull him down anyways. The light kiss was sweet and satisfying in a small but pertinent way.

"Mm. Stay here with me," I commanded in a groggy voice with my eyes only half-open. I didn't need much brain function for this. All I needed was some muscle movement and the instinct that I wanted Clark to be by my side all day. He chuckled at my insistence, and I saw his pretty aqua eyes glitter with amusement.

"I have to go to school." That was no excuse. Separation was the hardest part about living with the Kents. Now that it was physically possible to be with Clark all the time, that's what my body wanted. I didn't think that I was quite dealing with the consequences of my actions yet, because Clark's presence seemed to make everything okay. He could protect me from everything, even myself. My nightmares hadn't come back since I'd been here.

"School's not important." When Clark snorted at me in disbelief, I felt a grin spread my lips. "Education won't get you anywhere. It's all a lie. It's a conformist movement to bore you to death," I protested. I let my fingers trace the muscles around his neck and shoulders. I wanted him to stay, but I knew that it wasn't really an option. I didn't give a thought to how useless it was; playing with my lover made me smile and created an inner glow that could come from nothing else.

He rubbed my head in an affectionate gesture that was supposed to offer comfort. "You'll get through the day without me. Watch CNN. Conspire against mass media."

"Go to the castle to get one of my cars and my laptop." It was an idea that popped into my drowsy mind that I regretted almost immediately. Clark's features were suddenly drawn tight with worry.

"Don't go there without me," he said softly. "Your father will be there." We both imagined Lionel lying in wait at the castle, ready to strike. It was probably true.

"I won't." He looked into my eyes to affirm that I wouldn't go, and then he got up to go to the bathroom. I didn't want to confront my father on my own, but there were things that I needed to watch over. I needed my laptop. I would definitely wait for Clark, even though my father would mock me for hiding behind him. If I went alone, it might impress him, but it would also be insanely stupid. I wasn't about to do that.

I stayed in bed until all of the action in the house quieted. Jonathan was in the fields, Martha was downstairs making breakfast for Clark, and Clark was eating it. I took the clothes Clark had gotten for me and went into the bathroom. I locked the door behind me as more of an instinct rather than believing I needed to secure myself from the Kents. The water was nice and hot, but I was careful not to soak for too long.

The bullet wound was pink and swollen compared to the rest of my skin, but at least it was sealed closed. The stitches were nowhere in sight, which meant that my skin had pushed them out. It was healing fast, but it still felt odd. I could almost feel it pulse with the beat of my heart. When I got out of the shower, I glanced at my cheek and found that the skin was completely smooth. It had returned to its normal, pale color. I smiled. At least that was good news. I got dressed into clothes that didn't feel right because they were borrowed, but the cotton _was _comfortable.

I replaced the towel on the rack and exited the bathroom. I could smell fresh pancakes, and my stomach rumbled with unusual hunger. Breakfast usually meant a cup of coffee and the occasional piece of toast. When I snuck into the kitchen, Martha smiled warmly at me and started cooking more pancakes. "Good morning, Lex."

"Good morning, Mi--Martha," I corrected myself. Clark was already gone. I was sure that he'd wolfed down his food with no problem. "May I have some pancakes?"

"Of course you can, dear." Minutes later, there were three pancakes, hot and fresh, on the plate in front of me. I started eating and picked through my mind for any questions.

"Are either of you going into town today?" I wanted to be out. I felt claustrophobic, and I needed a little change in environment.

"Jonathan's going. He needs more feed." She was standing over the sink and washing the dishes.

"Can I go with him?" When I looked down, I realized that I had eaten almost all of the pancakes I was given. My stomach was definitely full. It seemed that I ate more when I was distracted.

"I don't know, dear. You'll have to ask him. He's in the barn right now." I handed her my plate and gave her a genuine smile.

"Thank you for breakfast." It was in my genes to be polite. After all, I had been groomed to socialize with society's elite.

"You're welcome." She gave me another peck on the cheek, and I couldn't help but blush a little. I was not used to such contact, but I found that I didn't mind it as much as I thought I would. I headed out to the barn through a door that I'd never used myself, but I'd seen Clark use it enough. Sure enough, Jonathan was halfway underneath a tractor. I heard him mutter curses that I favored when I was angry.

"What can I do for you, Lex?" I wasn't surprised. The door was creaky, and if it was Martha, she probably would've said something by now.

"Martha said that you were going into town today. I was wondering, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, if I could come with you." I tried to avoid the small puddles of oil on the floor. I was barefoot, which was entirely unusual for me.

"Sure." He didn't ask why I wanted to come with him. I found it somewhat unusual, but then again, he seemed to understand more than I gave him credit for. "We're leaving in an hour."

I got ready by putting on my wig and making sure that it didn't look fake. Sometimes, the hair looked unnaturally perfect, and I had to mess it up the slightest bit. I rooted through Clark's drawers and found a pair of sunglasses so that I wasn't all that conspicuous. I didn't really want to be recognized. There was nothing I could do about the maroon boots. At least my shirt was black. I still looked like a fashion failure, but I decided that I didn't care. Maybe I would set the trend. If not, who cared?

The ride in the truck was a little bumpy, but it was calm for the most part. When we got off the dusty road, Jonathan rolled the windows down. It felt good to breathe in the fresh, crisp air. It didn't take us long to get to town. Jonathan told me to meet him back in front of the feed store in twenty minutes. I didn't have a problem calmly walking the storefronts with nothing in particular in mind.

I grabbed a coffee from The Beanery and sipped it. It wasn't bad for manufactured coffee. It was then that I noticed that the old movie theater, The Talon, was for sale. My mind reeled with ideas for something modern to go in that space. I was inside Nell's flower shop before I knew it. I approached the pretty brunette at the counter and waited to get her attention.

"Hi, Miss Potter?" It took her a moment to recognize me. When she did, she smiled politely.

"Lex Luthor. How can I help you?" The inflection of her tone showed surprise.

"Are you selling the Talon next door?" Her interest immediately perked.

"Yes. Are you interested?" I could see Lana Lang working the next register over. She frowned when Nell mentioned selling the theater.

"Yes, I am. I'd like to set up a buyer's meeting. Is Sunday alright with you?" Sunday should be a quiet day, I thought. It would give me some time to gather my bearings.

"Sunday's fine. We could meet at the Talon at noon and discuss it in there." With every word, Lana's expression grew darker. Maybe the wretched girl would cry. Secretly, I hoped that she would. I didn't like Lana at all. She wasn't much competition for Clark, but she was still a threat.

"Perfect." I smiled. It came easier than it usually did. "I'll see you then."

I was walking out of the shop when it happened. I passed her like she was anyone else, but my mind immediately knew that something was wrong. My brain sent off emergency alarms, and my photographic memory flashed back to a moment ago when I saw Amanda Rothman's face. I turned around and looked for her long, brown hair, but she was gone. There was no one there. _Mandi_. God. A rush of memories assaulted me.

_"Oh, God, Lex, I love you so much," she moaned in breathy gasps as my fingers slid in and out of her. Her back arched, fair features twisted in ecstasy, as she came._

_"How could you do this to me?!" A shout screamed in my ear, and then the flames were back and flickering too close to me. My skin burned as my clothes caught on fire, and my stomach suffered a terrible wrench when the smell of cooking meat flooded my nostrils._

I'd know her face anywhere. It was her. But there came the second question that I had to ask myself in situations like these. Was it real, or was it a figment of my imagination? Before I had any more time to think about it, Jonathan called my name. I got back into the truck. I felt numb. Either I needed to be put back on anti-psychotic medication, or Mandi wasn't dead like I thought she was. I needed my laptop and my cell phone. I couldn't let Lionel know about any of it. I had to tread carefully, or else I might end up back in Belle Reve.

Jonathan was silent on the ride home. He didn't ask me any questions, as if he could sense my discomfort. The rest of the day was spent trying to get my mind off of it and not succeeding. When Clark finally got home, I insisted that we go to the castle. He borrowed the truck from his father, though he didn't exactly have his license. In Smallville, it didn't matter. Underage driving was a ritual here.

"What's wrong?" I had been quiet the entire time. I wondered how it must've looked to him. I had only tersely made my demand of him, and that was it.

"I'm sorry. Something happened in town today." I placed a hand on his forearm to comfort myself more than anything.

"Is it serious? Was it your father?" The thought of my father appearing in downtown Smallville was laughable. Most of the residents hated him.

"No, it wasn't him. I just thought I saw someone I knew from a long time ago." Years ago, but it felt like decades. My life was so different from what it was back then. I was still rebelling against my father, but I wasn't going to clubs and doing drugs anymore.

"Did you talk to them?" As if he could sense that I was skittish about the topic, he was keeping his tone soft and casual.

"No. I tried to get a second look, but they were gone." Like they'd never been there in the first place, I almost said.

His hand encircled mine, and I knew that he was offering comfort without fully understanding the situation. "Don't worry about it," he said quietly.

When we arrived at the castle, Clark pulled up in the drive and led the way inside. Everything was silent. My father must've sent home the servants. He opened the door to my office and poked his head in before I was allowed in. I gathered everything of immediate need, which included my cell phone, its charger, and my laptop, and put them inside a steel briefcase. "I need to go upstairs and get some of my clothes."

"Can't you just wear a t-shirt and jeans all week?" He was almost whining. It made me smile.

"As much as you like it, I'd hate to borrow any more of your clothes." One of Clark's fantasies was probably of me wearing one of his shirts, a red or blue one, and nothing else. He pretended to pout as we headed upstairs. He made sure no one was in my bedroom before we went inside.

"I knew you'd have purple sheets," Clark muttered as he sat down on the bed. I neglected to mention that he'd been in here before because I knew that it would create one of those uncomfortable moments where Clark would omit the truth. I walked into my closet and started grabbing clothes. I packed a few essentials into a duffel bag before I smelled the faint aroma of smoke. Once I smelled it, it was impossible to ignore it.

"Clark, come in here a minute." He ambled his way into the walk-in closet and grinned seductively.

"What? Do you want hot closet sex?" I threw him a glare, and he put his hands up in surrender.

"Do you smell that?" I didn't want to tell him what it was, just in case his brain told his nose what to smell.

"What?" He started sniffing the air, and I put my duffel next to the briefcase.

"Just stay in there for a minute, then tell me if you smell anything." Of course, it could be my paranoia affecting my senses. That's exactly what I was trying to disprove. After thirty seconds, Clark finally perked his head up.

"Smoke. I smell smoke." Thank God.

"Good. I thought I was going crazy. Lionel," I said under my breath. I never hated my father more. He was deliberately trying to screw with my sanity.

"What's going on?" I didn't want to talk here. I picked up my briefcase, and Clark handled my bag, which was a little heavier.

"I'll tell you when we get home, okay?" He nodded. He trusted me. I leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips. Clark was my angel.

He didn't ask me anything about it until we were in the barn. It was safe. We sat down on the surprisingly comfortable couch, and I spilled my guts.

"When I was eighteen, I used to go to this place called Club Zero. I met a few people there. There was this couple, Jude and Amanda. I had a crush on her, so I found out everything I could about Jude and used it against him. I found out that he was cheating on her. I went to the club with Mandi when Jude was supposedly out of town, and we caught him making out with some other girl. He knew what I'd done and was pissed off about it. He pulled a knife and stabbed me, so my bodyguard pulled his gun. Things got lost in the fight, and somehow, Mandi ended up shooting Jude. I covered it up for her and said that my bodyguard did it to defend me. We all walked." Except for Jude. He was rolled out in a stretcher with a sheet over his head because of what I'd done. I could tell that Clark was fascinated by my other life. It was so radically different from what I was like today that it was hard not to be interested.

"Wow." His hand squeezed mine. "So how does the smoke tie in?"

I took a deep breath. "I got what I wanted. Mandi started paying attention to me. Suddenly, she was everywhere I went. I liked her, but I wanted her to back off, so I told her that I needed a break. For a while, things seemed to quiet down, but when I went to her apartment, I found all these pictures she'd taken of me. Like she was spying on me. She caught me in her apartment. When I called her crazy and tried to run, she knocked me out. I woke up tied to a chair."

It was hard to talk about it. It made my lungs ache with the invisible, non-existent pressure of the asthma that was no longer there. Clark was rubbing the back of my neck. His lips were parted in shock, and his eyes were filled with sympathy.

"She told me that she loved me, and she started pouring gasoline everywhere. She said if she couldn't have me, no one could." For a while, I thought that it was just a clichéd saying that movies used to make things more dramatic, but I know that Mandi believed every word. "She started a fire. I thought I couldn't stand the smell of the smoke, but when the fire started burning my skin, the stench was horrible. My bodyguard figured out where I was, and my father intervened. I had third-degree burns when they pulled me out. Dad told me that she died in there, but I never thought to check up on it."

"Oh, God," Clark whispered. He molded his body to mine and just held me. It was exactly what I needed. My chest felt constricted with anxiety.

"I thought I saw her in town today, and when I looked back, she was gone. My father has to be behind this. The smell of smoke in my closet. He knew that I'd go back there eventually." I didn't realize that tears were running down my cheeks until Clark wiped them away.

"I hate your father." The words were vehement, and I hated to think that Clark could be corrupted with such a dark feeling, but I hated him too. "What's he trying to do?"

"I've been in a mental institution before. Belle Reve. He'll put me back there if he can, if only to show me that he still has control over me." He was kissing my face, every inch of it, as if he were trying to heal invisible wounds.

"When?" His hands rubbed my back soothingly.

"When I was fifteen. I have paranoid personality disorder. It can escalate to schizophrenia if I'm not careful. When I saw Mandi in town, I couldn't be sure if it was her or if it was just a hallucination." I was far from perfect, but Clark didn't seem to care. He was just as loving as he'd been a moment ago, and he pulled me gently into his lap so we could be more comfortable.

"What happened?" His voice was soft. It was another sensitive subject.

"They liked to have fun with the patients. I tried to escape, but all I managed to do was get myself electrocuted and cut up by barbed wire. The only reason my father took me out was because they weren't helping my condition." Lionel was such an inattentive parent. My heart stung when I thought of what my upbringing was like compared to Clark's.

"How the hell did you make it through all that?" Clark murmured. I didn't know if I was supposed to answer or not. "How could you go through that and seem so...perfect?"

"I'm a Luthor. I was born to overcome." I gave him a wan, humorless smile. "I'm not perfect. I've learned a lot from the many, many mistakes I've made."

Martha called us in for dinner. I silently thanked a higher power, because I was exhausted from talking about all the shit I'd had to suffer. Most of it had been my fault, directly or not. I picked at Martha's beautifully cooked steak and kept my eyes trained on the table. I wasn't thinking about anything in particular. I was brooding. It was something that I did well. I could tell that my mood was affecting everyone around me. There was little dinner conversation.

Afterwards, Jonathan went into the living room to relax while Clark headed up to the barn. I ate a little more of my food so that I wouldn't starve tonight. "Are you thinking about your father?" Martha was eerily perceptive. Maybe it was because she was a mother.

"Yes. I have a feeling that he's planning something." Because my father was never idle. He was plotting out a solution to his problem of my rebellion right now. I was certain of it.

"Well, I hope it's not anything unpleasant." I frowned. Nothing was ever pleasant with Lionel. All I could hope for was the ability to turn the situation around in my favor. "Did you like the food?" She subtly changed the subject.

"Oh, yes. It was great. I usually don't eat as much as I've been eating here." Martha turned to the sink to start on the dishes.

"Have you been feeling sick lately?" I didn't miss the point.

"I don't get sick. Ever since the meteor shower, my asthma's gone and I don't get the flu." I placed the remainder of my food in a container set aside and gave her my plate. "I take it that Jonathan told you I might be pregnant?"

She reddened. I doubted that she usually dealt in subterfuge. "Yes. I wanted to tell you that if you are, Jonathan and I will help in any way we can." The offer made my heart ache. I could tell that she wanted a grandchild, but I doubted that one would come from me.

"That's a very generous offer, Martha. My father wants an abortion." I could see her eyes moisten. It made me frown.

"And you?" She stopped all movement and looked me in the eye. "What do _you _want, Lex?"

Somehow, the answer came to me. "If it's there, I want it. I'll fight against my father to keep it."

Martha smiled and wrapped her arms around me. I heard her sniffle. I rubbed her back like Clark had done for me earlier to comfort her. "You have a good heart."

"Thank you." It was the best compliment I'd ever received from the Kents.

"You'd better go into the barn, or else Clark will send out a search party," she teased. I smiled and kissed her on the cheek this time. She seemed surprised, and I didn't blame her. It was rare for me to be so physically affectionate with someone who I wasn't romantically involved with.

I went into the barn. Immediately, I smelled wax and saw a glow up in the loft. While I was climbing the stairs, I was careful to be as quiet as I could so I could spy on him a little. There was soft rock music playing in the background, and I recognized it as one of the radio stations I had programmed into my cars. There were little, white candles everywhere. The window was open to reveal the stars. The telescope was no longer pointed at Lana's house. I reveled in my small victory.

Clark was lighting a candle when he noticed me. I climbed to the top of the stairs and smiled, and he returned it with a beaming smile of his own. "I thought you could use a little relaxation tonight with everything going on with your father. I noticed you were quiet at dinner."

"I'm impressed. This is very romantic, stud." I could see a blush in his cheeks, even in the dim light. I sat down on the couch and took off my coat with the purpose of exposing some skin. I saw Clark's eyes follow my movements. "So, what are we doing tonight to make me relax?"

"I thought maybe I could give you a massage. If you wanted one." I could tell that he was nervous about it. I saw massage oil on the table that was scented with lavender and honey.

"It sounds great." I didn't have anything under the worn t-shirt, but it didn't matter. I lay on my stomach with the cotton protecting my breasts from the rough fabric of the couch. Clark came over and opened the oil. "Careful. It spills out easily. Rub it between your hands so it's not cold."

He seemed grateful for my direction. He took a small dollop of the oil and rubbed it between his hands before starting on my shoulders. It started a little clumsy, but it didn't take him long to learn the sweet spots. When he hit one, I would let out a little sigh, and he would work the tension out of the knotted muscles. I don't know how long he did it, but he didn't seem tired. When I broke out of my reverie, it was because he was kissing me in a somewhat awkward position.

I drew myself up to a sitting position so that he could sit down. I let my hands coast over the hard muscles of his chest. I saw that he was hard and wondered how long he had to suffer. My deft fingers undid the zipper on his jeans and wrapped around his hard cock. As I stroked him, he moaned with his head back, and I took the opportunity to nip and kiss at his neck. I lowered my lips to his nipple and scraped my teeth against it. He arched his back and raised his hips in a blur of motion, and there was a spurt of come that splattered on his belly.

I dropped to my knees in an instinctive urge and covered his cock with my mouth. I swallowed his come for as long as it came, and then I licked it off his lower abdomen. It was fulfillment enough to see the look of pure satisfaction on his face, and I drew myself into his lap and curled up to him so that we could have skin-to-skin contact. It was a great ending to a bad day, and I dared my father to rip me away from the man that I loved and his family.


	18. The Violet Virus

It was on the table the next morning. It was a big, manila envelope that had my name scrawled on it in bold, capital letters. I knew my father's handwriting anywhere, and it matched. He wasn't one for anonymity. He took pride in what he was able to do to me. Clark and I had been awake before anyone else, but it was Saturday. Apparently, the elder Kents liked to sleep in, not that I blamed them. Clark's doe eyes looked from the envelope to me with a worrisome expression.

The first possibility I thought of took my breath away. I felt how stiff the envelope was and knew that there were photographs inside. What if my father had footage of Clark using his powers? My blood seemed to hum through my body in a rush of fear and anticipation. Clark was simply waiting. It was solely my decision. I wanted to burn the envelope without giving it another glance, but if the pictures were of Clark using his powers, I needed to take preventative measures. I needed to know just how serious this was going to be. I bent the fastener and opened the envelope.

The pictures slid into my hands. Photo after photo showed a younger me in a liplock with a different person. There were about seventeen of them in all, some that I recognized and some that were a haze of memory affected by drugs or alcohol. The last one made all the blood rush to my face. It was Amanda's face bent upwards in ecstasy as my lips caressed her neck. There was no doubt in my mind that it was deliberate. At least they weren't pictures of Clark. My father could _not _find out about his special abilities, or else Clark would end up in a lab somewhere with his organs exposed.

"Could you burn these?" My voice seemed distant to my own ears. The pictures served as reminders of how promiscuous I had once been and as a warning. Mandi was somewhere, running loose, here in Smallville. That was an old fear I didn't want to confront. I didn't know what Clark thought of me as he nodded solemnly and took the pictures outside. I was certain that he would do what I asked of him.

I sat on the couch and turned on my laptop. I put in my password and was greeted with my usual wallpaper. As far as I could tell, this was one aspect of my life that my father hadn't penetrated and corrupted. I got into a restricted database and searched for Amanda Rothman. A mug shot of her came up, and I could tell that she hadn't been there when the fire escalated. Her features were perfect, and her hair was intact. Resentment welled up in me against my father. What had he been thinking?

From her records, I could discern that she'd been thrown in jail for a few hours and then quietly transferred to a mental hospital near Metropolis. She'd been recently released after a three-year stint and declared mentally sane. I snorted. How did she gain back her sanity after setting me on fire because I didn't love her? I was certain that my father had been involved with her release, but why? Did he want to scare me away from the Kents, or did he just want to scare me back into his arms so that he could protect me from any danger? Both solutions sounded like something my father would consider logical.

When I checked my e-mail, there were eighty-one messages from "mandiroth." My father wanted to scare me, and I hated to admit that he succeeded. Seeing all of the e-mails put a stake of terror right into my heart. An icy chill went down my spine, and I felt my bullet wound, nearly healed now, twinge with pain. I deleted everything without reading it. I looked at my phone with the suspicion that I would find the same thing on it. It had been charging last night and turned off. Several phone messages and texts from an unknown number confirmed my suspicion. It looked like she was back to her old habit of stalking, not without some help from my father.

It was hard to believe that she had good intentions. I was too biased, too traumatized from the fire to remain objective. I didn't want her around me at all. I needed to offer my father somewhat of an olive branch. Maybe he would stop all of this before it got serious. I sent an e-mail to his account that said, "If you want things to stay as they are, things will have to change." My father hated any kind of philosophy that didn't have to do with war and pride.

I didn't want to be at my father's mercy again. I wanted the advantage. I already had evidence of his physical abuse against me, but I needed something new. Something fresh. I hated his underhanded way of dealing with things. He didn't like to get his hands dirty, but apparently, setting free a homicidal ex-girlfriend was completely acceptable.

I felt Clark's arms wrap around my upper half and looked up at him with a small smile. "I hate when you get that serious look on your face," Clark complained into my neck. His voice rumbled like a purr, and his heated breath puffed onto my flesh. "You know that I love you no matter what, right?"

I hadn't been worried about Clark's reaction to my many partners, but I had a feeling that I should've been. "Right. At that point in my life, I was doing everything I could to piss my father off. None of it was real." I ran my fingers over his strong forearm, and he kissed the spot just under my jaw. My smile grew more relaxed and less strained.

"I want to show you something." Now _he _sounded serious. I looked up at him with curiosity in my eyes, and the gravity in his alerted me to the fact that it really was serious.

"Sure." I closed my laptop and hit the button to shut it down. I set it on the coffee table and trusted that Martha and Jonathan wouldn't mess with it. When Clark went out the door, I slipped on my shoes and followed him out to a cellar. It was something that I'd never really noticed. There was a big padlock holding the doors shut, but Clark retrieved the key from his pocket and started unlocking it. I looked around to see if anyone was nearby. It never hurt to check. I didn't see anyone, and my heart jumped when the lock clicked open.

He untangled the lock from the handles and opened the cellar. There was a set of stairs that led down to a surprisingly big subterranean space. He climbed down the stairs first, and I shot him a dirty look when he lifted me from the waist and set my feet on the floor. "The stairs are shaky," he protested. I glared at his back when he pulled the large doors closed and shut out most of the light. I reached up and pulled the chain belonging to a hanging lightbulb, and a decent amount of the cellar was illuminated. It was the standard storage space with tools and gardening supplies everywhere, but on the far side, there was a heavy tarp covering something that came up to my waist in height and was worth about half the wall in length. I waited for him to speak.

When we were left in silence, I wrapped my arms around him in a hug. "You don't have to tell me anything." I looked into his eyes so that he knew I meant every word. Just because he knew some of my dirty secrets didn't mean that I was entitled to his. I didn't want to discover his secrets illegitimately, and I didn't want him to feel like he owed me anything.

"I want to." He took a deep breath. "There's something you should know about me. I'm not human."

I ran a hand over my head by instinct. "Neither am I. I know that the meteors changed you, too." I felt some sense of relief. It was a simple misunderstanding, wasn't it? A confirmation of what I already knew. But the look in his aqua eyes told me something different.

"The meteors didn't change me." His deep voice seemed to envelop the entire room, and I could swear I felt my heart stop. My lips parted in shock, and the Luthor part of me was complaining because I was nowhere near keeping a straight face.

"But, Clark," I shook my head, not understanding, "I've seen what you can do. I know you're special." My heart fell. Was he going to resort back to telling me lies? I knew that I couldn't handle going back to what we were, where he would look me in the eye and make up some stupid lie. I didn't know how I could stand it in the first place now that I knew there was more to the mystery of Clark Kent.

"I am. The truth is, I brought the meteors with me. I'm from another planet." As a Luthor, I was trained to keep my face straight, but I felt all my training go to waste when my eyebrows were raised in surprise. I took a step backward without even realizing it. The magnitude of his statement was absolutely enormous. The mere thought of life on another planet sent my curiosity shooting sky-high, and the fact that I might have someone from another planet in front of me was even harder to swallow.

"What?" Suddenly, all of the discrepancies in my theories about Clark made sense. He was so much stronger than all the meteor freaks, and he was weakened by the meteors. It wouldn't make sense that he was a meteor freak. "Are you trying to tell me that you're an alien?" I let out a chuckle of disbelief.

"Yes." It was almost frightening. I panicked when his eyes were genuine. He was telling the truth. I backed up another step, but this time, Clark closed the distance between us and wrapped his arms around my waist. _Its arms, _my subconscious corrected me. It could be a shape shifter. Did aliens have a gender? If they had more aliens out there like Clark, the world was in danger of being overrun by aliens that could turn hostile at any moment. "Lex, don't look at me like that. I'm still the same person."

As much as I tried to convince myself it was a trick, I used my eyes to look at the farm boy in front of me. This was _Clark_, the boy who'd saved my life many times over. The one whose breath tasted like blueberries and mint. The one who would accept me no matter what. I stopped my thoughts in their tracks, which required an enormously difficult effort, and put my hands on his forearms. The touch brought me back from panic-induced train of thought. "Is this for real?" My mind was buzzing with questions, but that was the one that came to my lips the fastest.

"Yes." His fingers kneaded the skin of my hips, and there was my gentle, loving farm boy-slash-alien. It was amazing and frightening all at once, and my brain was screaming at me to get out of there, but I couldn't, because this was Clark we were talking about. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. "I wanted to show you the ship I came down in during the meteor shower."

A ship? My scientific curiosity was jumping up and down with joy, but I was contemplating something else. Clark's landing is what caused the meteor shower. It was his fault that I lost my hair. I couldn't bring myself to believe that, because Clark wouldn't have caused such havoc intentionally. I couldn't imagine what kind of guilt he already faced with Lana's parents being lost to the meteor shower. I couldn't ever blame him for my hair. "Okay." It was all I could think of. I was speechless. I giggled nervously, and Clark smiled. With that beautiful smile, anything and everything was already forgiven.

He pulled the tarp off of the behemoth in the deepest part of the cellar. I couldn't help but gasp at the chrome space ship that was staring me in the face. There was an octagon carved out of the top, and I couldn't help but wonder what purpose it served. The entire thing almost resembled the head of an arrow with a bulbous part in the middle. The largest part must've been where it carried him. I couldn't imagine anything but a baby fitting inside there. My memory brought up an image, right after the meteor shower, of a little boy with black hair and blue eyes touching my face. "You were just a child."

"My parents think that I was about three when I came here. They found me in the middle of a field and adopted me. My mom could never get pregnant and always wanted children, so when they found me, it was like a gift from the heavens." I snorted at the irony. "I only found out what I was the day you hit me with your car." I thought about his reaction to such a revelation. What any teenager do after they found out that they were an alien? I lacked an answer. That thought overcame any anger I had concerning Clark not telling me what he was. It had to be so difficult for him.

"Wow, Clark. I never imagined anything like this. It's amazing." My fingertips touched the steel exterior of the ship, and I was struck with the realization that it felt _alive_. "It feels like skin," I muttered to myself. I couldn't take my hand off of it. A buzzing sound went through my head as I felt my body vibrate down to the cells, but I was standing still. "Something's wrong." The entire ship seemed to pulsate with life, but it wasn't anything I could describe.

"Kneel before the House of El, human!" A voice thundered out from the thing, and I heard it in my ears as well as in my mind. I felt blood drip from my nose as I was forced down on one knee while my hand stayed in place. My knee ached from its impact with the floor, and my neck was forced down by an invisible hand as I bowed down to something that was far beyond my comprehension. Clark was saying something, but I couldn't hear him. My mind was frozen, and all I could think was that I must obey this construct, whatever the hell it was.

"Who are you?" Clark finally shouted. I was able to look up, but I couldn't move the rest of my body. His beautiful face was illuminated in pale blue light, and it was contorted with fear and confusion. I couldn't blame him. I was connected to something more powerful than anything I'd ever felt in my life. It sucked my willpower and my ability to speak and act for myself right out of me, and all I could do was wait for the next command. This was what I feared from the alien race. If this thing could capture my will so easily, how hard would it be to enslave the entire human race?

"I am Jor-El. You are my son, Kal-El." The light seemed to brighten in intensity when the ship talked and dim when it was silent. "I am a program your father installed in your ship before you left Krypton. I am designed to answer your questions, guide you to your destiny, and determine a proper mate." My ears perked at the last purpose. Mate? I wasn't nearly prepared for this. What if this thing disintegrated me because I wasn't a proper mate? It seemed far harsher than Clark was, because there was no human emotion in this machine. "What is your name, human?" It said the last word as if it were a derogatory insult. My chest prickled with anger at its superiority complex.

"Lex Luthor." My mouth snapped shut after I was finished answering. I assumed that this thing did not want to chat. Clark seemed unable to move, and I wondered if it exerted its will over him as well. Maybe he was more susceptible to it because it was created by his own race, or maybe he was just too shocked to go anywhere. I didn't blame him. Whatever force this was, it was dominant.

"Usually, I would never consider Kal-El mating with a being of an inferior race, but it seems that I have little option. You are the last son of Krypton, Kal-El, and the legacy of our planet must carry on." I bristled at being called inferior. If anything, Luthors were taught to be superior over all others. Usually, I didn't allow that part of me to reign, but it was still there, inside me, laying dormant until provoked. "Even though your genome is beyond that of a normal human's, I find you to be inept, Lex-Luthor." It said my name as one word, and the three syllables were bunched together.

"She _is _my mate. I don't need a program to tell me that she's not," Clark commanded in an authoritative tone. I had only heard him use that with certain meteor mutants and my father. It was unusual for the mild-mannered Kent, but his hands were clenched into angry fists. It made his veins stand out against his tanned skin, and his marine eyes were intensely determined. "Lex is the only one I need to be happy," he continued in a softer voice, and those eyes, now loving and concerned, turned to me. I felt a stinging in my eyes and turned the tears away by sheer force of will.

"Your happiness is not an issue, Kal-El. A proper mate must be strong enough to remain by your side like a Kryptonian would. They must give you support when no one else will and aid you in the pursuit of your fate." Fate and destiny seemed to be common words for the program. It was supposed to guide him to his destiny, I remembered. What kind of destiny was that? My lips wouldn't open to ask the question, so I remained silent while my mind struggled to speak. "I will determine whether Lex-Luthor is worthy. Come back tomorrow, Lex-Luthor, if you survive."

Before I could understand what was happening, a needle shot out of the ship and into my wrist. I gave an undignified whimper at the sudden pain of something flooding my veins, which seemed to be turning bright purple. As the fluid traveled, the veins stood out against my pale skin as a vibrant shade of violet. I finally took my hand off of the ship, but I only lost my balance and fell to my side on the wooden floor. All of the breath in my lungs was pushed out of me in that blow, but that was the least of my concerns. What did it mean by its question of my survival, and what had that thing injected in me?

These questions suddenly turned inconsequential as I gasped in air. There was a pain in my wrist that was traveling along the path of injection, and it was soon in my heart, which would pump it throughout my body. Clark was on his knees next to me and held my face in his large hands. "Lex?" His voice seemed to echo a little, and I felt him trace something on my face with his fingertips. With horror, I realized that it was probably a vein. The pain turned to sharp and shooting with a deep ache that felt like it went down to my bones. I felt Clark lifting my into his arms and rushing into the house.

The sunlight hurt my eyes, and it took far too much effort to close them. Clark was still muttering my name, but I couldn't move my lips to answer him. It all hurt far too much. Whatever that program had done to me, I was fairly certain that I would be dead by nightfall. I felt him set me down on the couch and heard him calling for Jonathan and Martha. Time seemed to pass faster than it used to, because Martha was shining a light into my eyes a moment later. Jonathan was shouting something about Clark telling me his secret, and Clark only shouted back. I could see the stress in his face, and then Martha's red hair swept over my view of Clark.

_My mother held me in her arms as her fiery red hair tickled my face. It was there, tucked against her bosom, that I listened to the comforting beat of her heart as her voice broke through the sound of my sobs with its angelic ring. "Shhh, it was only a nightmare." Her tone was so soothing, and I felt the vibration in her throat as I cried against the pale, smooth skin of her collar. She never complained about my tears ruining her clothes, which were made from the most beautiful materials but could do nothing but envy my mother's natural grace. I sniffled and looked up into her eyes, emerald with more dimensions than any precious stone. Her full lips spread into a smile that created small lines around the corners of her eyes. "See, my sweet? There's nothing to be afraid of."_

_"Don't coddle the child, Lillian," my father huffed in his infinitely demanding voice. This didn't feel right. It was another time, another place. "She'll never learn to face her fears without throwing a tantrum." His mane of brown hair was fuller and richer, but he was dressed in the same expensive kind of suit that he favored. His hands ran through my hair, which was a blonde wig at the time. "She must learn what it means to be a Luthor. There are those that will try and hurt her, and she must remain strong. She must learn to survive." His scratchy beard rubbed against my skin when he kissed my forehead. _

_"What the hell are you, some kind of cancer patient?" I was in the locker room at school with the other girls, who were showering after their swim. I didn't want to be called dirty, so I took my shower with them, but when I removed the swim cap, I revealed my baldness. The mean brunette wrinkled her nose in disgust, and the friends crowding around me did the same. "You shouldn't be allowed to shower with us. You could be contagious." The girl pushed me into the tile hard and held my arms while her friends pulled my bathing suit down. There was a chorus of "Ew, gross!" and "The hairless wonder!" that echoed in the locker room as well as in my mind._

_"He's only a baby, Lex. Be careful," my mother's voice chimed. I nodded with wide eyes and watched closely as she put the bundle in my arms. It was heavy, I thought, but I didn't want my mother to take him away. The blanket wrapped around him was blue, and so was the hat on his head. "His name is Julian," she said with pride in her voice, and I felt the first stab of jealousy toward the baby until I saw his face. It was squished, and his lips were inside his mouth. He grunted in the cutest way I'd ever heard, and it made me smile. At the same time I saw contentment in my mother's eyes, I also saw a deep sadness that lingered within. After all, the burden was now on Julian to run Daddy's company. I was finally happy, because for the first time in my life, I felt like I could grow up to be anything I wanted to be._

_I woke up in the middle of the night to the baby crying. Julian's wail was the most common interruption of my sleep, and I sighed and tried to put the pillow over my head to muffle the sound. This time was different. The baby's high-pitched squeal was suddenly silenced, as if the hand of God had reached down and struck him quiet. I got up and walked quietly down the hall to Julian's room and saw my mother standing over the crib. Her face wasn't right. She looked distraught. It was only when I looked into the cradle and saw the pillow over Julian's face with her hand placed squarely in the middle that I understood what had happened. She turned her head to look at me, distressed. "He wouldn't stop crying." Her voice sounded like something out of a horror movie, monotonous and cold. I knew what I had to do._

_"What did you do, Lex?!" Daddy shouted at me after my mother left the room. "What did you do?" he whispered when he looked down at Julian, who was lying still under the blankets for the first time in his short life. "You...you little bitch!" he roared. The impact was sudden and sent me to the floor. He bent down and smacked me again. When I put my hands up to block my face, he grabbed my wrists so hard that I thought I would cry. Daddy hated it when I cried, so I sniffled and tried to stifle my tears. "Daddy, I didn't mean to," I sobbed, but he shook his head in disbelief. It wasn't the first time in my life that my father hated me, but it was the first time I'd seen this intensity in his eyes, the first time he laid a hand on me._

_"How do you feel about your mother's death?" The unknown man shoved his microphone into my face, and the light from the camera behind him was blinding. I could only look at him in bewilderment and shock. I could feel my cheeks turn pink, and my eyes stung with tears that I wouldn't let fall in front of a camera. One of the teachers ambushed the two men and shooed them out of the crowded hallway, but all I could think was that my mother couldn't be dead. She was infallible. She was the one who scared away the monsters in the night and the demons in my soul. But I knew it was true the instant the principal laid a hand on my shoulder and asked me to come with him._

_The throbbing beat of the music pierced through my body and into my soul. My hips moved of their own accord, and a dose of ecstasy laced with harder drugs made me smile when an older man approached. I used my eyes to seduce him, and soon, he was pressed against me. A rush of arousal went through me, and he whispered into my ear, "How much?" I laughed and said that I was free, which widened his smile and made my bodyguard send me a disapproving glance. Good. It was something else that would piss my father off. I put my hand on his pants and rubbed his cock with a smirk. I bit his earlobe and gave a wicked smile as I said, "On second thought...fifty bucks." Prostitution was a new one. Maybe it would make Lionel's shriveled, black heart give out._


	19. Seeds of Life

I thought I would never wake up. Each time I came into the blurred pain of consciousness, I thought it would be my last. Every time, Clark's face hovered above me, and his hands brushed over my skin. Each touch burned like fire licking at my skin, but I didn't tell him to stop. The pain reminded me that I was alive for the moment. I couldn't get my brain to work, but every time I felt the world fade around me, I told Clark that I loved him. It was the pathetic murmur of a woman's last breath, but I wanted him to know that in his heart and soul, no matter how much it hurt me to say it.

I heard Martha and Jonathan's faded voices in the background, and I could sense the tension in the air as if it were my own. But my entire body was limp, and I was on the edge of death. It was a border that I'd nearly crossed many times, but only a few of those times had I come as close as this. I didn't have to hear their words to understand what they were saying. Both voices were worried about me like I was one of their own. Martha had been on the phone with a doctor at one point, who seemed to think that I'd been poisoned, but it was much more than that. I was being tested. I had to prove my worthiness to be at Clark's side.

It wasn't the first time I had to prove myself, but never before had I been so determined to succeed. Part of me was helplessly swimming in the mentality that I was going to die and no amount of stubbornness was going to keep me from it. The other part was unified for the first time. The Luthor heiress and the woman who was hopelessly in love with Clark had joined hands and were praying for my survival. Luthors were never inferior, and no alien virus was going to keep me from the love of my life. I would never willingly give him up. I would not ask for death just to ease the incredible pain I was experiencing. If nothing else, I was a warrior.

I saw a flash of deep, cinnamon red hair and the sparkle of my mother's green eyes. Her face shone like the light of the moon, and her smile, the one that I had been aching to see again since I was thirteen years old, lit me up from the soul. I was afraid that she was just a dream, terrified that she would disappear in a moment, but she took me in her arms and held me close like she used to when I was a child. "Mom?" My lips were hesitant to form the word, as if she would vanish if I acknowledged that she was there. I could feel the wisp of her curls against my face, and her melodic voice seemed to echo in the empty air around us.

"_Hello again, my sweet princess._" Her voice was the same as it used to be, a fresh, young, and beautiful breath of air. I couldn't hold the tears back any longer, but as soon as they appeared on my face, they were gone. My mother's smile was much like the Mona Lisa's, as if she knew secrets that I could never dream of. "_Don't cry. This is only a resting point, Lex. Your life is not over._" She had the infinite wisdom that elders often did written in her calm features, and her essence seemed to surround me with its soothing aura.

"How?" The word escaped my mouth, and my voice cracked with a flood of emotion that had been locked away inside me for years. "How are you here? Where am I?" I was full of questions, and all of a sudden, I felt like I was five years old again. I looked up at my mother as if she knew everything, and the secrets of the world were locked inside that sweet, loving smile. She was the antithesis of everything that Lionel stood for, and I suddenly understood that I was literally trying to blend both of them into my life. I was trying to do a good job managing the Luthorcorp plant as well as trying to keep Clark as close to me as possible.

Her soft fingers, her touch surpassing the feel of even the finest chiffon, brushed lightly over the right side of my bald scalp as her gentle lips kissed the other side. It was the sensation of being completely enveloped in compassion and love and of experiencing everything that I'd missed in my days as a wild teenager. It was everything I'd been looking for when I was fucking some random stranger and everything that I'd found in Clark's arms. "_The how doesn't matter anymore. You're here because you refuse to surrender your love. You've sacrificed for Clark, and you will be rewarded for it._"

I couldn't imagine any reward greater than being able to see my mother again, whether it was by virtue of my deranged mind or a gift from God. I'd been wishing for this moment with all of my being since I saw her lying in the casket, when the reality of her death hit me like a ton of concrete. "I've missed you so much, Mom." I couldn't believe that I was talking to her again. I knew that my time was limited, but I was already rejoicing for this dream, this vision, that seemed so realistic that I could feel her warm breath on my skin. If she was some manifestation of my mind, then her knowledge of Clark was perfectly reasonable. "I feel like I want to be better for him."

Her eyes sparkled with a gleam of pride and what might have been the beginning of tears. "_I am so proud of you, my sweet, but there will be events that will challenge your soul. You must overcome the darkness. If you do not, it will destroy you._" I knew exactly what she was talking about. I knew that I would have these challenges through my entire life, but I was determined to be better than my father. "_You must love with all your heart and throw away the hatred. You must strive to be the kind of loving mother that I know you can be._"

It was as if the air had been knocked out of my lungs. Clark and I had discussed the possibility of a baby, but it was only a possibility then. Now, it was a reality. Somehow, I knew that she was completely and totally right. I was pregnant. I was going to be a mother. I had all the fear in the world of not being able to love a child, but at the same time, my heart flooded with a foreign sensation of affection for the child inside me. I'd never felt so strong and so weak in the same instant. "I'll try, Mom. I don't know if I can, but I'll give it all the love I can."

A playfully mocking tone filled her voice. "_You'll try? What happened to knowing that you'll succeed? You have so much to learn, my dear, but you must have the strength of certainty on your side. You cannot fail in this. You cannot treat the child like your father treated you. You must show kindness and love. You _will _sacrifice for this child, Lex, but they will be sacrifices that you are capable of making. Do not allow your father to take over your life._" Her eyes pierced my soul, and I knew that I had to do what she asked.

"I will succeed, Mom." The confidence was there this time, but it faltered when I saw her image starting to fade. "Where are you going?" The grief that entered my heart was an old ache, but it tore at me with renewed agony as I realized that she was leaving me. Like a child, I saw her being ripped away before my very eyes just when I had her back with me. "Please, don't go." As if she could feel the torture in my soul, her smile turned sad as she touched my cheek. Her fingers were a ghost of a touch that tickled my cheek instead of the very real thing I'd felt moments before.

"_You don't need me anymore. You're on the path to becoming a great woman. It pleases me to see my sweet little girl growing into a beautiful woman, inside and out._" I could barely feel her anymore. I reached out for her in desperation, and the tips of my fingers grazed hers. "_Be strong. Don't be afraid to rely on Clark. Above all, remember that love is the key._" A whisper of wind stroked my ear, and the faintest of words were whispered. "_I love you._" And then she was gone. I was alone again, but my spirit was rejuvenated. I would never be alone. Not as long as Clark was by my side and I had a child to shower with love the way my father would detest.

I would make my mother proud. The exhaustion in my body settled the fire in my soul, and I knew that I was sleeping again. The best way for my body to heal itself was to keep me unconscious so that it would be left alone to do its work. Whatever this thing was, my body had never fought anything like it, and it was exceedingly difficult to get rid of. It was only when I felt myself shifting in ways I couldn't explain that I realized that it was changing me. It was altering my very genes, and the pain was so intolerable that I was out cold for hours. I didn't count how many.

When I awoke again, it was with the knowledge that I would live. I was more alive than ever, but my body was still incapacitated. My eyes fluttered open, and the dim lights were painful to adjust to. The blurry room transformed slowly into the Kents' living room, and I turned my neck ever-so-slightly to see Clark's peaceful face in restful sleep. I was on the couch, and he was stretched over the short distance of the two-cushioned sofa. He was so tall that his knees hooked over the end, and the sight was so endearing that I thought my heart would burst. His angelic features made me smile and remember the child in my stomach. Hopefully, the virus hadn't destroyed my child. It was a question that I was anxious to ask Jor-El when I saw him again. I wasn't afraid of the alien technology, even though it had practically poisoned me. I was fiercely determined to discover what he'd done to me.

There was a thick quilt covering my body that warmed me so thoroughly it might've reached my soul. It was probably one of the store-bought ones, but the warmth and comfort of home seeped into my body. I was home. There was a fluffy pillow under my head, which was slightly distorted by my movements during sleep. The couch was fairly comfortable, and my body told me that I wasn't going to move anytime soon. But I was awake. For now, it was enough to make me happy.

"Lex," came Martha's surprised voice from the kitchen. I could smell something savory cooking that made my stomach rumble with deep hunger. "You're awake." She said it with such disbelief and joy in her voice that it reminded me of my mother. I saw Clark stir on the sofa as she placed her hands on my cheeks and kissed my forehead. "There were a few times that we thought you were gone." I could hear the sorrow that they must've gone through in her tone, and my heart ached for causing all of that. Her pale blue eyes looked positively overjoyed to see me alert. "Clark, she's awake."

Usually, Clark was so aware of everything around him that it would've been impossible for him to miss the change in my breathing and heartbeat, but I suspected that the entire ordeal had tired him out as much as it did me. He seemed to jerk into action, and he turned into a blur of motion until he was kneeling on the floor. He was right next to me, and his aqua eyes were filled with tears and happiness. "You scared me," he said softly, and I could see all of his sixteen years worn right there on his face. "It's been three days. Nell stopped by, and I told her that you would reschedule." Clark always thought of me first. I had missed the meeting at the Talon, which was very unprofessional, but it wasn't like I could help it.

"Jesus. What did he do to me?" The question was muttered under my breath, but I knew that Clark heard it. I lifted my right arm and looked at it. My veins were still right against my skin, and they were light purple in color. I wondered what kind of disaster my face was, but I didn't have a mirror handy. I had a feeling that Clark didn't want me to know what I looked like at the moment. "At first, it felt like the worst poison I've ever had run through my veins, but then it was like it was changing my DNA." He took my hand and kissed each one of my knuckles with the gentility that was his signature. He had the power to crush my hand until my bones were dust, but he didn't think in terms of power. He thought like humans did.

"It looked a lot worse on the first day. You were running a high fever, and you were delirious. You kept talking in your sleep. Your heart stopped beating for fifteen seconds." There was such quiet horror in his voice that I knew that those fifteen seconds would have been the worst in his life. "You kept saying that you loved me, and I was so scared that you were dying." It hadn't been my imagination. Clark had probably been at my side the entire time. "Dad's really upset. He's working in the field right now. He says the work keeps him from thinking." I didn't blame the older man.

"I want to see Jor-El tonight." Clark was ready to protest, but I stopped him with a soft glance. "I need to know what he did. It'll drive me insane if I don't know." I wanted to know if I was still pregnant. There was no doubt in my mind that the virus might have harmed the baby, and I would be absolutely devastated if it was gone. I closed my eyes and prayed for God's forgiveness of my moments of weakness. I prayed that He would let me keep our baby. I'd never been much for religion, but God had always been a part of my life whether I believed in Him or not. "I thought I was really going to die. I saw my mother."

Clark's fingertips traced the contours of my face, and I wasn't sure if he believed me or not. "I'll take you down there tonight, but if he does anything else to you, I'll destroy the ship. I won't let it hurt you again." The fury in his eyes was uncharacteristic of him, but he was fiercely protective of me. His hand cupped the top of my skull so that his fingers could brush against my skin in a soft, reassuring massage. "You might have been hallucinating." I knew that he didn't want to say it, because he'd seen how much I cared for my mother, but I didn't blame him for it either. I might have said the same thing. I saw that Martha was listening intently from the doorway of the kitchen.

"I don't think I was. It felt so real. I heard her voice. I felt her touch. She told me not to let something like this destroy me." I didn't know if I should tell Clark about the baby or not. "Can you do me a favor?" My voice was tender, and he nodded earnestly. "Put your ear to my stomach and tell me if that super-hearing of yours picks up anything." His eyes widened, but he did as he was asked. He removed the warm quilt from my top half and pushed up my shirt to reveal my stomach. His hands were on either side of his head, lying flat on my stomach, and he closed his eyes and listened. Martha was visibly tense, and her mouth was slightly parted as she waited for Clark's reaction. His face finally split into a beautiful, toothy grin, and he looked thrilled.

"I hear it. It's a tiny heartbeat, but I hear it. You're pregnant?" It was a question, but we both knew that I was. I nodded anyways and found that his smile was infectious. "I can't believe it. We're going to have a baby." Rather than sounding fearful like I was, he sounded excited. He may have been physically sixteen, but Clark was far older than that in his mentality. I couldn't keep feeling like I was stealing his youth away. He wanted this too. If he didn't, I would allow him to leave in a second, but he did. It meant so much to me.

Martha placed a hand over her chest and gasped in surprise. The gasp turned into a delighted laugh, and a few tears rolled down her cheeks as she approached us and sank to her knees. "Can I listen?" I wasn't going to deny the woman who I was coming to accept as my second mother.

"Of course." Clark moved his hands and then slid his cheek further down my stomach so that Martha could put her ear to my stomach as well. It took her a little longer than Clark to hear it, but he had powers that the rest of us had to do without.

"Wow," she said in disbelief. "This is so wonderful, Lex. My grandchild," she murmured as she ran a hand over my stomach. For once, I didn't mind all the touching. My baby needed to be soaked in the love of its family. I would make sure of that for my mother if not just for the child. "How did you know?" Her voice was stuck in a tone of quiet awe, and I knew that it was because she couldn't get pregnant. I had no problem sharing the experience with her.

"My mother told me." When I looked into Clark's eyes, I knew that he believed me. He felt guilty for calling it a hallucination. I could read his eyes as easily as I could read my own thoughts. The next sound we heard was Jonathan coming through the back door. The thunk of his boots against the floor gave him away. There were more wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and there were purple rings underneath them. The blonde man wasn't sure what to think when he saw the scene before him.

"Jon! We're going to have a grandchild." Martha happily shared the news without restraint, and I didn't dare chastise her for it. She was far too content for me to strike her down. Clark's eyes dared Jonathan to make some negative comment. The older man approached carefully and leaned down to kiss my cheek.

"Congratulations, Lex. We'll do anything we can to help." I appreciated his support, because it must've been difficult for him to accept it. But his weathered features only showed tired happiness. He seemed to sense my discomfort and looked me in the eye. "Right now, I'm happy you're alive. Martha and I have always wanted another child in the house." Jonathan smiled, and I returned it. Clark didn't seem perturbed at all by what his father said. He stared at my stomach with amazement in his eyes, and I wondered if he was looking at the baby.

"It's so small," he whispered, and I had to blink away the tears. Finally, I felt like I was part of the family. I was sharing this moment with the people who mattered the most to me, and that group didn't include my father. Martha seemed to come to her wits and stood up.

"Dinner's ready. Maybe if you're better next weekend, we can all go up to Metropolis and celebrate." Maybe Clark and I could go dancing. It was hard for me to separate clubbing from being on drugs, but I knew that Clark and I could have fun without the use of chemicals. If anything, Clark would look sexy in the clothes I would pick out for him. I was already planning. Plus, I had to stay clean for my baby. It would be a bitch to quit smoking and drinking, but my mother was right. I was strong enough to make sacrifices.

I wanted to eat with the family, but I wasn't ready to start moving yet. Clark helped me set up a tray in my lap and brought me a plate stuffed with goodies. He gave me a long kiss and told me that I had better start eating more. I ate over half the food on my plate, all of it delicious, before I got too full to have any more. I thanked Martha for dinner and then asked Clark to take me to the cellar. He adopted a solemn look on his face, but he could see in my eyes that nothing would discourage me.

He carried me threshold-style to the cellar, and Jonathan volunteered to accompany us so that Clark didn't have so much trouble. Jonathan unlocked the cellar and opened the doors so that we could get down there, and he also shut the doors behind us so we could have privacy. Clark glared at the ship and removed the tarp. For a moment, nothing happened. When I touched it with my fingertips, it seemed to brim with life, and I pulled my fingers away before it could take hold of me again. It didn't seem to matter.

The blue light filled the room as the machine visibly scanned my body from head to toe. "Welcome back, Lex-El." The name the machine spat out at me jarred me for a moment, but I had enough sense to ask my question.

"What did you do to me?" I demanded, and I wondered how odd it was that I was making demands of a spaceship. Then again, my life was full of curiosities, and maybe I was meant to be with an alien. I was far from normal myself.

"I injected you with a chemical designed for just this situation. I found your healing rate to be inadequate. Physically, you have been transformed into the closest thing to a Kryptonian a human can achieve. You will heal as fast as Kal-El does. I have made you into something worthy of my son, Lex-El. Be grateful that you have survived unscathed." I didn't know what to think. It didn't feel like I was healing anywhere near as fast as I usually did. "Your body will take some time to recover." It was as if it could read my thoughts, and my paranoid mind wondered if it really could.

"Has my baby been left untouched?" I was afraid that it would have some kind of defect, but Clark had said that it sounded healthy. Its heart was beating, at the very least. Somehow, I knew in my soul that the baby would have the strength of mind that both Clark and I had. Clark seemed to tense at this question, as if he were contemplating smashing the thing if it gave us the wrong answer.

"Yes. The child will have the DNA of pure Kryptonian descent." Anger flared up in me again. If our baby was half-human, that wouldn't make it any harder to love. It wouldn't be any form of inferior to us, but obviously, it mattered to Jor-El. "Its physical health will far surpass yours, Lex-El." It was starting to piss me off, but I decided to keep my anger under wraps. Who knew what other tricks this thing had up its sleeve?

"Why are you calling me that?" I wasn't sure that I was ready for the answer. I didn't understand this foreign race at all, and they were far less predictable than humans.

"The chemical has made you a fit mate for Kal-El. You will begin to bond as husband and wife. In Kryptonian terms, you have been tested as required by law and have survived with your love for my son. When the bonding is complete, you are wed. You will know when the time is upon you, and there is no formal ceremony. It is a sharing of thoughts and emotions, something so private that only you can declare it finished." Complicated much? I knew that there was a lot that the machine was leaving out. It was almost like a human in that respect. It knew how to dodge the truth.

"Is the process painful?" I think that Clark was simply struck by surprise. These little meetings put great strain on him, because he was only sixteen. This was his world. This was his ancestor. I could see him trying to place blame on himself already.

"There will be physical and mental trials, but if you have the strength and will of Krypton, you will be successful in bonding. If that bond is incomplete or broken, chaos will ensue." That part scared me. I couldn't imagine leaving Clark, but if we ever did decide to go our separate ways, there would be more consequences than heartbreak.

"What kind of chaos?" This time, it was Clark's deep voice that echoed through the room. I could tell that he was as anxious as I was.

"In the history of Krypton, no bond-mates have separated before death. When one dies, so does the other. Since Lex-El is human, there may be room for error. If the bond is broken, prophecy states that one mate will be forced to fight against the other for eternity. The other will be consumed by sin and tempted into evil." I swallowed hard. I knew which one of those would apply to me, and I prayed that it would never happen. I couldn't imagine it happening, because we would have a child to take care of.

When we were outside in the fresh air, I shared my thoughts with Clark. "At least we know which one of us will be the evil one."

"Stop that," Clark said sharply. I was surprised out of my nonchalance and looked up at his emotive eyes. "It won't happen. Not _ever_."

He took my lips in a fierce kiss that could be inadequately described as possessive, and I knew that he was determined for us to succeed. I only hoped that he was right.


	20. The Breaking Point

**A/N: **Holy crap, Chapter 20!! I've never gotten this far in any of my stories so far. Yay! I love everyone who commented. You guys really put a smile on my face, and it makes me gush to read all the positive comments.

Jor-El was right. It took me five days total to recover from that hellish virus, but I'd never felt better in my life on that fifth day. Five days of recovering from near death with the Kents ranked a hundred times better than spending one day with my father while I was healthy. The atmosphere had changed since I came to stay here. Instead of Jonathan's uncertainty, I received a greeting and a worn smile with a twinkle in his eyes. There was the same appreciation in Martha's eyes, and she almost constantly peppered me with questions about how I was feeling and what I wanted to eat.

Clark was more relaxed than I'd ever seen him. It was like now that it was all out in the open, there was no tension between us anymore. Those beautiful blue-green eyes would catch me looking at him, and he would smile. It was the real smile, not the classic Clark Kent smile that everyone else saw. It was the smile that said that I was the only one who knew the real Clark, and that's the way it would stay. It didn't matter that he would rush off to save Lana from the latest meteorite menace or that he hid my wig so that I couldn't wear it. I would go through all the pain in the world to see that look in his eyes every day.

I was helping Martha prepare dinner that night. I was assigned to the safe tasks of cutting, measuring, and pouring things in pots and pans instead of actually cooking. She liked to have the radio on. She said it helped her concentrate. It was set on a local country station, but I didn't mind it as much as I used to. The smooth, dulcet tones of the deep voice singing matched my mood and made me sway to the slow beat as I sliced tomatoes. I wasn't aware that I was humming until I saw Martha watching me from the corner of her eye. "Sorry."

She simply smiled and shook her head. "No, you were pleasant to listen to, actually. It's better than Jonathan singing in the shower." I had a flash of the crooning of Jonathan's off-key voice to old country songs and couldn't help but laugh. She gave me a knowing look and bumped her hip lightly against mine. "Whatever you're thinking, it's probably right, dear. Oh, and I have to warn you about Clark. He's completely tone deaf." She said it in a low voice, as if it were a big secret. The windows were open and allowed the evening chill to enter the hot kitchen.

"I guess super singing isn't one of his talents." I would have to remember to tease him about it. He and Jonathan were out putting a fence up. The chores on the farm seemed endless, and I wondered how the men put up with it all. Not that Martha's job was any easier. Preparing all this food made me think that we were feeding a third-world country, but I'd already seen Clark wolf down his food. I realized that I'd been too distracted from my task when the knife sliced into my thumb halfway through a tomato. "Oh, shit," I sighed.

Martha immediately went into what I liked to call mother hen mode and grabbed my thumb with the nearest clean towel. She stuck the stinging appendage under the faucet of the sink, and the warm water soothed the wound some. When she carefully wiped at the wound with the towel, the blood cleared and allowed us both to get a clear look at...nothing. "Where?" Martha asked in somewhat of a daze as she turned my thumb over to look for the wound.

"It was right there," I protested. I was equally as surprised, but when I saw my thumb completely free of injury, Jor-El's words came back to me. "Wow. Jor-El said that I would heal faster, but I didn't think he meant _that _fast." I checked my skin over again, as if I expected the wound to appear in front of my eyes, but it didn't.

"At least that man did something useful after he gave you that awful virus," Martha grumbled. She was protective over me now that I was part of the family, and I think that she was the one who most readily accepted me for what I was. Jonathan had taken a little more coaxing, but he was finally treating me like he actually liked me. It was a big achievement in my book. Both of us jumped at the slamming of the screen door as Clark stormed into the room.

"What's wrong?" he demanded, and I looked at him with bewilderment in my eyes. Had I screamed? All I could remember was quietly cursing. Martha had the same look, so I knew that I wasn't insane. But Clark had a look of urgent worry in his features. He was sweaty, covered in dirt, and tracking muddy footprints into his mother's kitchen. He'd come in here expecting an emergency.

"Nothing. I cut my thumb, and it was gone as soon as we washed the blood off." Now Clark looked puzzled. "Are you feeling okay?" Usually, that was Martha's question, but Clark's reaction made me think there was more to the story than a misunderstanding.

"Oh." He adopted a sheepish expression when he looked down and saw the mess he'd made. "I thought I felt...Nevermind."

Martha had resumed her cooking duties and thankfully wasn't looking at the mud. "What? It's okay," I assured him.

"It just felt like a lot of pain, that's all. I thought you were in trouble." His cheeks reddened, and his guilty eyes made my heart melt.

"I'm fine." I gave him a small smile, but I was feeling uneasy. I wasn't sure what it was. He gave me a light kiss and tried to make his escape.

"Clark Jerome Kent, don't think you're walking out of here without cleaning up that mess!" Martha shouted, and I saw Clark visibly wince.

Clark didn't move for a moment. His eyes turned toward the front door, and I heard the telltale rumble of a high-class engine. My love for cars told me that it was a Rolls Royce. There was no doubt about who it was. I was in no mood to see my father. Unrealistically, I had hoped to ignore him and continue living under the fantasy that the Kents had adopted me and that I had no parents. It was too bad that it wasn't true.

I was wearing black dress pants and one of my silk blouses. It was pushed back to my elbows and left untucked. My feet were bare. I had no time to change, and maybe it was meant to be that way. I heard three sharp, distinct, and impatient knocks on the door. "I'll get it." I could see the sympathy in Martha's eyes and the anger in Clark's. He kicked off his boots and finished cleaning up the mess with a blur of motion, and I made sure that he was at normal speed when I opened the door.

If my father wanted to appear like he'd missed my presence, he had succeeded. It wasn't in his perfectly smoothed mane of chestnut brown hair, nor was it in his neatly trimmed beard. It wasn't in his tailored suit with no wrinkles or his impeccable Italian leather shoes. It was in his eyes. They had rings under them to give the appearance that he wasn't sleeping, and his amber eyes, usually alert and forceful, carried the pall of exhaustion. "Lex. May I come in?"

One side of me warred with another. I wanted to slam the door in his face or maybe just block it with my body and flat-out say no. Manners taught me to always let someone in the house, even if you were going to crush them once they were inside. I looked back at Martha for approval, whose body tensed as she gave a light shrug of her shoulders. It was up to me. If it were Clark's choice, he would've put Lionel right back in his limited edition car and sent him home. I stepped back and allowed him to enter.

He took a look around the Kents' living room, which was unusually homey and probably far too cozy for his liking. He expressed this discomfort by sitting on the edge of the sofa, as if it were going to give him a disease through contact with it. He seemed to not know what to do with his hands, and it occurred to me at that moment that he was putting on an act. He was trying to garner my sympathy by giving off the appearance that he was having problems without me. It was an act of desperation. "I received your e-mail." He paused for a moment and eyed Martha, who was still cooking and subtly monitoring the conversation at the same time, and Clark, who was glaring from the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. "Perhaps this conversation should stay between _family_."

The statement incited me more than he'd intended. "Oh, good, because the Kents _are _family." His eyes veiled the shock at my revelation, but I'd learned how to read my father over the years. "Clark and I are going to get married." It was basically true, because we would be married by Kryptonian law. Maybe it had been a mistake to assume that Clark wanted to get married. I glanced over my shoulder at him, and he gave a small nod. He felt the same way I did. My father was ready to protest. His lips were parted, ready to fire off a response, but I didn't give him the chance. "I'm pregnant, Daddy. Aren't you happy for us?" I tilted my head and challenged him with a glare. If he said that he was anything but pleased, it would make him look like a bad parent. There was a good side to having two-thirds of the Kent family listening in.

"This is outrageous. The boy is only fifteen," he sputtered with a disbelieving laugh. He looked over at Martha, as if he expected her to scold us and agree with him, but she was silent and serious. Her expression said it all. She approved of all of it. I couldn't hope for a better mother-in-law.

"He's sixteen. By law, if his parents sign a waiver, he can be married. Both of them _will _sign." I was carefully crushing Lionel's hope for me becoming just like him. He looked positively outraged that control of my life had been taken out of his hands and into mine. "Since I'm twenty-one, I require no such document." I was rubbing salt into the wound, and I didn't exactly feel remorse for it. "Face it, Dad. It would look better if we were married and had a child rather than if we had a child out of marriage. Personally, I don't give a shit about what other people think, but I think it would help your reputation that way."

"You believe that you're actually going to have that child?" He scoffed and chuckled. "You're going to tire of this arrangement soon, darling. I guarantee it. You'll be on the table for an abortion in two months." There was a sharp smack that bit through the air as Martha's knife sliced into a cantaloupe and smacked against the glass cutting board. The timing was completely intentional.

"I'd bet your life on it." There was some dark humor laced within that statement, and I could tell that he didn't miss it. "I apologize in advance. We won't be naming it after you." I could almost feel the joy resonating from Clark. I didn't have to look at him to know that he was enjoying this despite the devil darkening our doorstep. "I'll be returning to the castle within the week, but I'm sure that I'll frequently visit my secondary family." I beamed a smile at Martha, and she returned it. "Things will be changing."

"What else?" He gave an undignified snort, and it was one of the first times I'd ever seen my father simply horrorstruck. I wanted to take a picture, but that would've been considered rude. I relied on my photographic memory to save that expression forever in the banks of my memory.

"You're going to send Amanda back to Belle Reve." I looked him straight in the eye, and a shadow passed through his expression. "I know that you turned her loose so that she would frighten me back to Metropolis. It won't work." He stayed silent, and I wondered whether I'd struck him speechless or if he simply wanted to strike me but didn't possess the balls to do it in front of Clark and Martha. "One more thing, Daddy. You're never going to lay a hand on me again or else those pictures _will _make it to the press. Am I making myself clear?"

I was ready for the backlash. I saw the darkness in his eyes when he growled a response. "I don't believe you're in the position to be making threats. Your mother's inheritance isn't enough to sustain you for the rest of your life. If you go through with this, I will disinherit you. Luthorcorp will never be yours. You can be a farmer's wife for the rest of your goddamned life, pushing out babies like some corn-fed whore." I felt anger surge behind me and knew that Clark was pissed. I didn't question how I felt his anger, but I attempted to combat it with some of my calm, practiced demeanor.

"I'll accept that before I ever become you." It was enough of an insult to avoid sinking to his level. "By the way, I got some nice pictures of you the other day. You and Victor looked like you were having a great time." I watched my father's face turn fish-belly white before he stood up and stormed out of the house. The screen door slammed against the frame, and I got up to watch him leave. I saw Jonathan emerge from the barn and cock the infamous shotgun before pointing it at Lionel's car.

"Stay the hell off my property, you bastard child molester!" I couldn't help my grin as Lionel peeled out in the dirt driveway, and Jonathan shot Lionel's precious Rolls. It took out a chunk of the trunk and made the expensive car look like it was missing a piece. My jaw dropped in shock, and Jonathan only gave me a smile and a wink before he returned to the barn.

"Your dad is so cool," I murmured when I felt Clark's body pressing against me. He spun me around and pulled me into a tight hug. I didn't mention that he was dirty and sweaty. Instead, I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him like I would die without him. His strong arms supported my legs as they wrapped around his waist, and he was comfortably holding me against him.

"You were so strong, baby. I swear, I would've killed him for that last comment." Martha cleared her throat, and Clark set me down. In moments like these, Martha or Jonathan would acknowledge that we needed to get a room through subtle looks or gestures. I didn't mind. They didn't want to see their son all over me. "Did he really do something with Victor?" Clark wrinkled his nose. I didn't blame him, because I had nearly thrown up after I saw the pictures. It was a necessary evil.

"I have the pictures to prove it. The press would love them." I gave a small sigh. "It's a shame they'll probably never get to see them. Maybe I should let one leak, just for fun." I grinned mischievously, and Clark's eyes lit up in amusement. I was being a Luthor, yes, but I was fighting against one of my own. My mother would have been proud. I wanted to throw an anti-Lionel party. There would probably be plenty of Lionel-bashing at the dinner table tonight.

"I love it when you plot," Clark said with a huge grin before he attacked my neck with kisses.

"No mush in front of the parents!" Jonathan shouted from the back door. A work glove hit Clark in the back and bounced harmlessly off his back side. Clark took on a blush and lightly rubbed my hips. He ran a hand over my stomach, which he'd been doing ever since he found out about the baby.

"I have to go wash up before dinner. Love you," he muttered before another short kiss.

"Love you too." Clark had cured me of my phobia of the L-word by making me say it all the time. He climbed the stairs with ease, and I checked a mirror. Clark hadn't gotten any of his dirt on me. I may have been part of the Kent family, but that didn't mean I liked being dirty. I knew that Clark would tease me about it.

I went in the kitchen and kissed Jonathan on the cheek. His five o'clock shadow was rough against my lips. "What's that for?"

"For scaring the shit out of my dad." The older man drank his coffee with a sly smirk on his lips. There was a lot more to Jonathan than I'd first thought. The man had layers and thick skin, and I couldn't begin to guess what was beneath them.

"Language," Martha warned. "If you're going to have a baby, you can't expose it to words like that." I'd never thought about cleaning up my mouth, but I supposed that it was the smart thing to do. Another thing that I would have to give up.

"You're right. Studies show that what we're exposed to early in life actually does matter. They did a study once where they exposed one group of children to lots of affection and another group to as little human contact as possible, and the second group never really recovered. They couldn't develop close relationships later on." I thought that I'd let my mouth run too long, but Martha nodded. They were smarter than I gave them credit for, and they were interested in most of the things I was. Jonathan loved talking about cars. I had promised to let him take a look at the inside of one of my Porsches.

"Such a smart girl," Martha commented with a proud smile. Clark came into the kitchen with one hand drying his hair with a small towel. Jonathan got up and headed upstairs to wash off the dirt that had gotten all over them.

"How do you get so dirty from putting up a fence?" I wrinkled my nose lightly at the thought of playing in the mud.

"I hammer the posts into the ground with my fists. The dirt sprays everywhere. Farming's not a clean job," Clark teased. He got close to me simply to look into my eyes. The wet tips of his hair tickled my forehead. His full lips spread into a natural smile. We'd been acting like newlyweds ever since I started feeling better. It probably had something to do with the new chemicals in my body reacting to his. "Maybe you should come and see what we do."

"You're not going to make me milk cows, are you?" I sounded like a snob, but I couldn't help it. The roughest kind of life I'd ever lived was on a farm in Montana. It had been beautiful out there. The environment had seemed to calm even Lionel, but that was back when my mother had been alive. She always made everything brighter. She'd been the light in our family, and when she was gone, so was the brightness.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," Clark assured me.

"It's not that bad," Martha chided. "The worst thing that can happen is that you might step in some cow pie."

Clark sent her a wary look, and I recoiled at the thought of my Prada shoes hitting cow dung. "I'm not going." Clark rolled his eyes at my expected response.

Dinner was always the best part of the day in the Kent house. I thought I might fire my cook when I got back to the castle so I would have to come back here for meals. I was tempted. There was an air of comfort that permeated the family, and everyone, even me, laughed and took part in the conversation, no matter what we were talking about.

"I thought it was awesome when you told Lionel we weren't naming the baby after him," Clark said with a laugh.

"We're definitely not." I'd had that decided since I was a teenager, but I never thought I'd get pregnant then. I figured the worst I could do was buy a puppy. I'd been wrong.

"Have you given any thought to a name yet?" Martha asked with curious eyes. She was always the one who thought of things that I'd never even considered. She was more experienced in that area. I looked at Clark, who shook his head.

"Not really, but if it's a girl, I'd like to name her after my mom." I could tell that Clark liked the idea when he reached over and squeezed my hand. "Lillian, or Lily."

"That would be beautiful," Martha said in a wistful voice. I knew that she still wanted a baby, even after all this time. I hoped that our child would fill a little bit of the hole in her heart.

After dinner, Martha and Jonathan curled up on the couch to watch a movie. Clark and I naturally headed upstairs to act on the chemicals that had been messing with both of our heads. As soon as Clark shut the door to his bedroom, his lips took mine in a passionate kiss that stirred a rush of arousal in my stomach. "We have to be quiet," I whispered, and he nodded earnestly. I knew that he would try.

The effects of just kissing were disorienting. We were both eager to do _something _after an entire day of holding back. I wrapped my legs around his waist and ground my hips against his in a frenzy. He moaned quietly into my mouth, and I felt his cock come to hardness. I ripped his shirt off and touched every inch of his abdomen. I ran my fingers over his muscles, which were hard after working all day. His hot tongue rubbed impatiently against mine. I felt him growl and pull my shirt open. The buttons flew in every direction, but I didn't care. I could afford more shirts.

His mouth kissed, bit, and sucked at my breasts with such excitement that a shudder shook my entire body. He was undoing my pants at the same time as I was undoing his. In a flash of blurred motion, we were both naked on the bed with him hovering over me. I was going to suggest an alternative position, but he seemed happy enough with this one as he bit my neck and let out a primal command. "Mine," he snarled. I saw the possessiveness in his eyes as he pushed into me hard and fast without any preparation.

I couldn't help but moan and arch my back. I reminded myself that his parents were downstairs and bit at his neck carefully. I didn't want to break my teeth off. It was like he was in a trance, and I attributed it to one of the things that Jor-El didn't tell us. I didn't care. It was fast and rough. He was purely fucking me, but I knew that he loved me. I had no qualms with enjoying myself just as much as he did. His breath was hot on my ear, and the sounds that came out of him sounded more animal than man, but didn't everyone sound that way during sex? It only turned me on more.

When he came, it did something I'd never experienced before. Instead of being simply lukewarm, his come was white-hot with something that made my whole body tingle down to my pores. I felt us becoming closer in our minds, but there was no explanation for it that I hadn't already considered. I relaxed against the bed and was half-asleep when Clark started to lick me. It wasn't an unusual sensation, but when his tongue went from my neck to my head, my eyes slid open. "Clark."

He didn't respond. He kept licking my scalp, which admittedly felt fucking good, and didn't miss an inch. That was the way it continued for a full fifteen minutes. By the time he reached my clit, it was already sensitive, but I climaxed again anyways. When he was done, he fell asleep right away holding my body close to his, and I had the good sense to pull the blankets over us before I fell asleep with him.


	21. Flammable

I knew from the beginning that the best thing I could do for the Talon would be to tear it down. It wouldn't attract business as a theater. Compared to the multiplex theaters already in Smallville, one screen was nothing. Nell Potter had been kind enough to meet me here and show me around, but I was already turned off by the gaudy sign and the red and gold that I saw taking over the inside's decorations. She unlocked the glass doors and allowed me inside.

The lobby was a spacious area with terrible choice of carpet. If I kept this building, I would have to rip it up and transform it into something that I could tolerate. There were a few chairs from the last century and a large counter with empty shelves under glass. Ancient cash registers were dusty from disuse, and the wallpaper was a puke shade of gold. "The theater itself is back here," the brunette informed me. She had attractive brown eyes, and I might have considered dating her when I was younger.

The theater itself wasn't all that useless. It was only one level, and the seats could be removed to make it a nice space. The place would take a lot of work and money. Even then, could I make it into something that would turn a profit? Probably not. "I'll be honest, Nell." It was a habit to address people formally, but Nell had insisted that I call her by her first name. "I would lose money if I put it into this place as it is. I could just as easily pave it and turn it into anything." There was a slightly downcast look in her eyes, but she nodded.

"Of course. I understand. There's a living space upstairs as well. It's a fairly large apartment." We entered the lobby again, and I could tell that she was tired. "My niece, Lana, is so attached to this place." At the moment, I didn't give a damn what Princess Lana thought of me tearing this place down. Once I bought it, it was my property. There was nothing she could do about it. "It's time to let it go. I'm sure she'll understand." She almost sounded distracted.

"A hundred thousand for this place would be a gift." When I examined her features, I could see that she agreed. She was getting a deal out of this sale. "Considering all the remodeling I'll have to do. Would you accept that amount?" I hated that I couldn't relax and talk to people like Clark could. When I was in a business deal, it was second nature to do exactly what my father had taught me. Nell frowned in thought before she made her decision.

"Yes." I was writing the check when she finally brought it up. "When did you shave your head?" It was a question that I'd been expecting. It was the first time it'd been voiced, but I'd seen people staring in the street. I half-expected to be in the _Smallville Ledger _for it tomorrow morning. At least it was from Nell, someone who I could imagine relating to at one point in my life. I tore the check from the stack and handed it to her with a small, forced smile.

"I didn't. I lost my hair in the meteor shower, and I've been wearing a wig ever since." Saying the admission aloud was far more difficult than practicing it in my head, but as soon as it was out, I felt some form of relief. Maybe people wouldn't care now that I was an adult. I still had nightmares from childhood and adolescence when kids teased and tortured me for it when they caught me with a bare head.

Comprehension dawned in her pretty eyes, and she tapped a finger against her lips. "Oh, I remember. I saw you in the hospital when Lana's parents died. Your father was trying to hide you in his jacket." I vaguely remembered stumbling around because I couldn't see from the darkness of my father's coat. "It looks much more natural," she said with an appraising look and a genuine smile. "I hear that you're staying with the Kent family. How did that happen?"

"I've been going through some rough times," I admitted truthfully. I resisted the urge to say that my father had been the cause of that rough patch, because I was always taught never to name the competitors. I had no doubt that no matter how trustworthy Nell appeared, the gossip rags would have a hold of this conversation by tonight. Clark and I hadn't talked about exposing our relationship, but he was feeling more possessive by the hour. I didn't think he would mind. "Clark and I are engaged."

Her eyebrows shot up, and I could tell that people were going to be talking. People would talk anyways, because even when we were just friends, people speculated about what a twenty-one-year-old billionaire was doing with a fifteen-year-old boy. There were always going to be people who had a problem with us, but we would have to face them eventually. "Really? That was fast. You've only been in town for three months." I could tell that she was one of the people who wouldn't judge too harshly, even if she was curious.

"Well, we fell in love fast." It was certainly true. No matter what Lionel said, there was no way that I would regret marrying Clark. My only fear was that he might regret it, but he insisted that he was staying with me. Nell's eyes sparkled with glee at that admission, and the older woman placed a hand on my arm. She was probably the only one who would actually think that we were good together instead of trying to press criminal charges against me for statutory rape.

"You two are right for each other. Don't let any of these small-town assholes tell you differently." I had forgotten that Nell was originally from Metropolis. She'd moved here to take care of Lana when her parents died. At least, that was the lore of the town. Everyone knew everyone here, which was why I held no illusions that the relationship between Clark and me would remain secret. If it didn't get out on its own, my father would make sure that it did. I had a feeling that he was still pissed off about the pictures of him and Victor that I had.

"Do you ever miss Metropolis?" My father had hit that nail right on the head. Another of my fears was that I would become the farmer's wife, but I didn't care if I had the love of Clark and my child. I'd always been in big cities with important people, but I came to realize that living in small towns didn't mean that someone was unimportant. It just meant that less people knew them. I wouldn't mind the anonymity after all these years of blatant scandal. The drug-hazed days of my teenage years and waking up with my name in the gossip rags wasn't anything that I wanted to relive.

"Sometimes." She gave me a knowing look and tucked her hair behind one ear. "At first, I thought it would be the end of the world. Don't get me wrong; I love Lana with all my heart, but I was terrified of moving here alone. At least you have Clark to support you on the bad days. Once I got used to it, it was easier than being in the hustle of Metropolis. Out here, I can just step outside and clear my head. I can hear the wind go through the grass," she said, a sudden grin spreading her lips and flashing her teeth, "and corn, without the sound of honking cars right outside my window."

"Be careful. You're starting to sound like you belong here," I teased with a light bump of my arm against hers. "I think you're right. Though, I could definitely live without the weekly attacks of meteor mutants." She groaned and rolled her eyes. "If I keep getting kidnapped and shot, Clark will never let me leave the farm. I'll be doomed to spend eternity milking cows and walking through fields full of shit." I let out a chuckle after she started giggling. I knew that Clark wouldn't really do that. At least, I hoped that he wouldn't. With his newfound protectiveness over me that bordered on obsession, I wasn't too sure. Hopefully, it was just a stage of Jor-El's "bonding."

She glanced down at her watch passively, like she had just remembered that she had something to do. When her eyes filled with surprise, I realized that she probably had something else planned. "It was fun talking to you, Lex, but Lana's shift just ended. I have to get back to the shop." There was a spark in her eyes that told me that if I hadn't been taken, she might have advanced our relationship. "Don't be a stranger, okay? We city girls have to stick together," she said with a grin. Her nose was the slightest bit wrinkled when she smiled, which was a trait that I considered cute.

"Of course. Someone around here has to bring these plebeians up to speed." She walked to the door and held it open for me. I exited the Talon and raised an eyebrow after she was done locking the door. "I'll walk you to the shop." The shop was less than ten feet away, but she laughed at my supposed chivalry. I walked beside her on the path until we reached the flower shop. I attempted to smile and stay outside, but she beckoned me inside, where I was overwhelmed by the scent of fresh flowers and plants.

Lana was behind the counter and taking care of a transaction. She might have been exotic if she didn't have a wilted personality. Her long, silky ebony hair and her Grecian-toned skin were perfectly offset by her forest green eyes, which had a beautiful quality to them when they weren't reddened with tears. Nell smiled at her niece, who looked nervously from her aunt to me but put on a false smile anyways. "Guess what? Lex just bought the Talon! Isn't that great?" Nell was obviously thinking about their shaky financial situation, but Lana was on another plane. She looked like she might cry when she looked at me.

"Yeah, great," she repeated lifelessly with that same cheerleader smile. "Um, Miss Luthor, can I talk to you in private?" I had to fight to keep from saying "no" and walking away. That was exactly what she deserved for trying to seduce Clark. But that would've thrown the friendship that I had developed with Nell right down the toilet. It was Nell's pretty, sympathetic eyes, which told me not to be hard on the poor girl, that forced me to nod as I followed her through a door marked "Employees Only." It looked like a storage room, and I realized that it probably was. Lana was wringing her hands, as if she couldn't find the courage to speak up.

Maybe it wasn't all her fault. My one intent on the subject of Lana Lang had been to intimidate the girl into frightful avoidance. That and my bias toward her friendship with Clark had to create an enormously unfriendly aura. I refocused my efforts and took a deep breath so that I wouldn't shout at the girl. "So, Miss Lang, what is it that you want to talk to me about?" I sensed that this was a desperate plea for the preservation of a useless, old movie theater.

The nervousness was coming off her in waves. "Uh, I was wondering what you're going to do with the Talon now that it's yours." It was none of her business. I tried to reel in the anger and see the situation for what it was. My father was always talking about my emotions getting in the way of my communication, and I hated to admit that he was right. I closed my eyes and tried to see what I was missing. Why did Lana care so much about an abandoned building? It was older than she was.

"In all probability, it'll be torn down to make way for a new building or a parking garage." She visibly winced at my words, and her inherent weakness was at odds with my ingrained belief that a spine was all I needed to survive in life. "Whatever it is, it will be something that's useful to this town. A one-screen theater just doesn't make sense anymore when there are multiplex theaters five minutes down the road." I allowed my logic to rule over my emotion this time, and for the first time, I took a step back to look at Lana Lang's problem objectively.

"Are you sure?" Yes, I was sure. Who the hell did she think she was talking to? I tilted my head at her question in lieu of an answer. She realized that she wasn't sounding very reasonable, and her cheeks turned pink. "I mean, it just--" She inhaled and then sighed at the helm of her response. "My parents used to go to that theater a lot. It was their hang-out. It feels like if it's destroyed, I'm losing another piece of them." I didn't expect such raw honesty from her, and I inwardly praised her for it. If there was anything I hated, it was being lied to.

"I see." So, I shouldn't demolish a building because of some teenage girl's fond memories of her long-deceased parents? Her explanation may have sounded illogical to anyone else, but I understood what it was like to lose a parent. When my mother died, I wanted to keep every little thing that reminded me of her. My father had forced me to throw it all out except for the bracelet that I had found in Jeff Palmer's room. "Well, I still don't see any reason to keep a building that won't turn a profit." It may have sounded harsh, but it was true. I had to push aside any emotion when it came to business deals.

"Please," she begged, and her eyes were shining with moisture. "I thought you would know what it was like. I know what happened to your mother." She looked up at me and didn't anticipate the sting that her comment had caused. She lost a few points with that one, and I physically bristled from it. "I saw you watching my aunt." Her eyes had changed with a glimmer that I couldn't decipher, and then she was pressing her lips against mine. She was over-eager, and for a moment, her tongue touched mine, and she tasted of spun sugar and unbearable sweetness. My brain went through a few seconds of shock, but her hands bringing mine up to her small breasts brought me slamming back to reality.

I pulled away from the kiss and dislodged her grip on my wrists before wiping my mouth free of some kind of sticky lip gloss with mountains of glitter that stained her lips a frosty pink. For an instant, I couldn't find the words to speak, but they finally escaped my mouth. "I said--I meant a solid _business _reason!" There was no doubt that I was flustered. Her doe-like eyes were full of embarrassment, and the pink in her cheeks had deepened to a full red. I could hear her stammering an apology, but I put a flattened hand in the air to stop her. "Whatever you saw, it was innocent. I'm engaged to Clark, Lana." Oh, God, now she really _was _going to cry.

"Oh. Oh, I'm sorry. S-sorry," she repeated with the sorrow showing plainly in those expressive eyes. I could also see surprise and anger, and I hoped that there wasn't an anger-based meteor mutant virus going around right now. If there was, I would probably end up getting hit over the head with a shovel and tied up. I was never going to get this damn glitter off my lips, and Clark was going to kill me when I told him. How was I supposed to tell my fiancée that his high-school sweetheart had kissed me so I wouldn't tear down a building?

"Listen." I was on my last nerve in terms of patience, but there was a little bit left along with some empathy for the poor girl. "You care about this building; otherwise you wouldn't have done that." I paused for confirmation, and she nodded with a miserable frown. "So come up with something to do with it. Plans, profit predictions, designs. If your proposal is good enough, maybe I'll change my mind." She nodded again and wiped a few stray tears from her cheeks. From what I could read in her expression, she was relieved that I had rejected her offer of prostitution. "You've got a week. Okay?"

"Okay. Thanks," she said with a sniffle. Her arms were wrapped around me before I knew it, and I patted her back lightly in an uncomfortable imitation of a hug. "It'll be good. I promise." She finally beamed a real smile in my direction, and I was still trying to rid myself of the glitter plague as I exited the storage room and then the flower shop. I gave a friendly wave to Nell, as if her niece hadn't just made me an offer to be my own, personal whore. It occurred to me that Lana hadn't mentioned my lack of hair. The girl was probably far too worried about the Talon and didn't want to offend me since the survival of the building bordered on my good nature. I snorted lightly as I got in the Porsche and started the engine.

As soon as the engine turned over, the black Jeep parked next to me exploded. I didn't understand what was happening for the first few moments of shattered Plexiglas and a deafening blast, but my instinct took over as I bent my head down as far as I could, closed my eyes, and shielded my stomach with my arms. I could feel shards of glass cutting my scalp, and a sudden, oppressive heat followed. My ears were ringing, and I couldn't hear anything except that incessant noise. When I felt the pressure on my left arm recede, I turned my head to see Nell opening the door and screaming words that I couldn't hear.

My right shoulder and collar burned when she pulled me out. I was dead weight, so I fell right on the glass remains of my driver's side window. The tiny pieces bit into my side through my clothes, and it was made worse when I was dragged away from the Porsche. All I could think was that Nell was tougher than I thought she was, and she didn't stop until I was on the sidewalk. The reason for this became clear when the Porsche went with another blast. Damnit. This time, I could see the white-hot blast of fire, and I could swear that I saw a woman's face in the middle of the flames, drawn out in contours of white, blue, and orange. My right shoulder and the right side of my neck were both hurting like hell, and it was only when Nell's hand slammed repeatedly into my wounds that I realized that I had been on fire.

When the scent of cooking flesh reached my nose, the edges of my vision blurred and faded into black. I woke up completely nauseated from the smell, but as I took a few deep breaths, it started to disappear. It was replaced by the scent of ammonia and other various chemicals. I was in the hospital. I could hear muffled voices and wondered if my hearing was still out. This wasn't a good idea, because Jor-El's "gift" would arouse plenty of suspicion among the doctors. There had been witnesses to the explosion, though, and at the moment, I had needed an ambulance. My hand came up to feel the skin that had been on fire and felt nothing but the rough texture of gauze. Good. At least they wouldn't be able to see how quickly it was healing. From its reaction to the pressure of my fingers, I gathered that it had probably already healed.

I'd been in enough hospitals for drug-related collapses to know how to get the plastic barrier on the side of the bed down. I sat up and waited for my head to clear a little. I removed the IV from my hand and felt immediately better. They must've been feeding me a morphine drip, which had been keeping my head in the clouds. I allowed my feet to hit the floor and put a little weight on them to test my balance. It felt fine. I nearly fell when I stood up but regained my balance with a hand firmly planted on the bed. There was chatter right outside my room, so I had to try and be as quiet as I could before they could pester me for being out of bed.

The paper gown was breezy in the back. I wanted out of it as soon as possible. After snooping in the large cabinets on the side of the room, I found my clothes. My shirt was torn up and burned, but it was enough to cover the vital parts. The clothes smelled like smoke. I vowed to finish burning them when I got home, but for now, I needed to escape the throes of the evil hospital and nosy doctors. I didn't have any transportation. My cell phone was half-melted, which said something about how close I had been to the explosion itself, but it still worked. I hit speed dial number one while I was putting on my pants.

The phone squashed between my ear and my injured shoulder finally emitted a welcoming sound. "Kent residence." It wasn't Clark, but I was just grateful that someone had answered, even if it was Jonathan. At least he understood something about keeping secrets. His scratchy, gruff voice had never sounded so good before. I looked down at the glob of plastic that used to be my Coach sunglasses and determined that they were unsalvageable.

"Jonathan," I whispered with some urgency in my voice. "I need a ride out of here. I'm at the Smallville Medical Center. Could you come and pick me up?" It was like I was trying to escape from a top-secret facility, but I was certain that the doctors and nurses outside my door had keen ears. Right now, from what I could gather, they were talking about the coffee and donuts that they had at lunch, but I wasn't sure how long that conversation could continue. I heard their laughter through the door.

"Lex?" He sounded surprised. "Clark came running in here earlier going on about some kind of accident. Are you alright?" I heard the jingle of keys and knew the answer to my question already. He wasn't about to leave me stranded at the hospital. "Isn't it a little premature to be getting out of the hospital already?" There was nothing but concern in his voice, and I appreciated it more than anything right now.

"I'm fine, but if the doctors find out about my recent genetic _enhancement_, I'll never get out of here." I was careful to stay quiet, especially when I said that, but I heard the door open and winced. The last thing I needed was a bunch of nurses telling me that I wasn't supposed to be out of bed, but that was exactly what I heard in chorus when they saw me behind the cabinet door. "I have to go sign myself out. Are you coming?"

"Of course. I'll be there in a few minutes." I snapped the phone shut and slipped it in my pocket. One of the nurses got brave enough to touch me in order to try and coax me back into my bed, and that's when I snapped. I pulled my arm away from her with some force and glared at the three nurses who had interrupted my getaway. I tried to relax and regain my composure, and my look had made all three of them freeze in their inane prattle.

"I'm not lying down. I'm not letting you put the IV back in. I'm signing myself out." They said something about having to wait for the doctor, which I wasn't about to do, and I went out the door and down the hall to the front desk. The woman there was trying to act like she wasn't staring as I scrawled my name in the sign-out list and wrote "AMA" next to it. Since when did medical advice matter to me? There were several other stares, and many of them didn't bother to hide the fact that they were staring at my head. So much for being bald as an adult being better than my experiences as a child. Women and bald didn't go together in small towns.

It didn't help that my shirt was falling apart. The right side looked like it had been clawed out by a wild animal, and that side of the collar hung down uselessly. The sight of Jonathan's red truck outside was something akin to a miracle, and I walked briskly out the door to flee my near-public embarrassment. Jonathan got out of the truck and pulled me into a hug. I still wasn't used to hugging people, so I tensed a little, but I finally relaxed in the bigger man's arms. "What the hell happened?" His pale blue eyes looked from my face to my tattered shirt, and I shook my head.

"The usual." I climbed into the passenger's side of the truck, which was difficult considering the height, but I managed to get into the seat on my own. I pulled the door shut and made sure to fasten my seat belt. The sound of the engine starting up made me jump, but I collected myself in favor of staring out the window. "I bought the Talon, and when I started up my car, the one next to me exploded." Jonathan's eyes widened in alarm. "I couldn't move or hear, so Nell Potter pulled me out. My Porsche exploded." What was my luck with Porsches? The car I had run over Clark with had also been a Porsche. It was bad luck.

"Good Lord," Jonathan muttered with a shake of his head. He was having a hard time keeping his eyes on the road, but it was bare of cars anyway. I pulled down the visor, flipped open the mirror, and positioned it to where I could see my neck. I carefully peeled the tape and gauze from my skin to see nothing but a smooth, pale expanse of brand-new flesh underneath. It wasn't even sensitive when I pressed my fingers into it experimentally. There were no injuries on my scalp either. It was a good thing that I'd signed myself out, otherwise the barrage of questions would've never ended. If the hospital was persistent enough, the government might have gotten involved. That was one big, hot mess that I was looking to avoid.

"Yeah. There's nothing like reliving the unpleasant sensation of having your skin burn off." I wasn't sure whether I wanted him to hear that, but he did. "What are the chances of Clark locking me in the farm and never letting me leave?" It was a depressing question, but I summoned a small grin as I put the visor back up. My smile faded when I remembered that Clark had apparently gotten wind of my accident, but he hadn't been at the hospital. That was out of character for him. The thought that, for once, he'd understood that I could take care of myself as long as I had time to heal didn't sit right with me. He had to be helping someone with something more important than my breakout from SMC. "Speaking of Clark, where is he?"

Jonathan shrugged his shoulders as we pulled into the driveway of the farm. "I don't know. After he told Martha and me about it, I thought he was going to go help. I haven't seen him since." That was doubly odd. Clark would know that the first place I would call in that situation was the farm. Jonathan and I made our way inside the house, and after I determined that Clark was still nowhere to be seen, I lay down on the couch in the living room and fell asleep.


	22. Amanda

I woke up in the middle of the night to tentative footsteps and the feeling that I was being watched. My father declared that it was a purely Luthor trait to be able to detect enemies even in our sleep, but I wasn't sure that kind of thing was genetic. My guess was that we were both so paranoid that it penetrated through our supposed resting time. My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the Kents' living room, and someone had thrown a blanket over me to make sure that I was warm. It worked a little too well, and my hazy mind wanted to get back to the comfortable guise of sleep. But my heart wouldn't let me. I recognized the shape of my tall man of steel and murmured sleepily. "Clark?"

I flipped on the lamp on the table next to the couch, and the dim light illuminated much more than my eyes were able to see in the dark. Clark stood at the end of the couch with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders slumped. I knew that look in his beautiful eyes from a mile away. Guilt. His jet black curls were more tousled than usual and appeared to be wind-blown. I wondered how long he'd been running. "Are you okay?" The question was a formality since he had x-ray vision, but I still appreciated him asking. I watched him carefully as he came over to my side of the couch and sat tentatively on the coffee table, a habit that Martha had scolded him for over and over again to no avail.

"Yeah. My car exploded." It was an unnecessary addition, but I wanted him to tell me the truth. I already knew that he'd known about it somehow, either by word of mouth or by some new gift from his alien father. What escaped me was why he wasn't by my bedside in the hospital after it happened. I had been there for a few hours, and he showed no sign of coming to visit me. It unnerved me, because it meant that something important had kept him away. Whether that something was my fault or something inconvenient, I didn't know. "I have to go to the police station tomorrow to give my statement."

Hopefully, the police would believe that I hadn't rigged it myself. They were the root of all the small-town mistrust of Luthors, and my last experience with them had been less than pleasant. I hoped that this time, I would just give my statement and go without being questioned for hours. "I saw it. The explosion." Where had he been, and why hadn't he helped if he had seen it himself? I tried to withhold my judgment until I got the full story. "I was working the back forty, and it just tore through my mind. I felt you being scared to death. I ran to town as fast as I could, but Nell had already pulled you out." I gritted my teeth. Why hadn't he come out and comforted me while I was waiting for the goddamn ambulance to come?

I hated relying on people, but usually, Clark was there for me, one hundred percent of the time. This little incident made me question his reliance. "So why didn't you come see me? I could've used a friendly face in the hospital." His eyes were shining with sadness, and I wondered if I had done something that made me unworthy of his rescue. "Why didn't you save me, Clark?" I asked softly. That was the real question that was at the heart of this issue. I hated being so vulnerable, but I had to know. Clark's inexplicable absence had been driving me insane, and I wondered whether he would be there when I needed him in the future. My confidence in him had been thoroughly shaken.

"I saw you flirting with Nell and kissing Lana. I figured that you didn't need me anymore when Nell pulled you out. You know, I never thought you'd go for _Lana_." His tone pierced my heart, and I could feel the anger coursing through him. It was the anger that usually ruled me, but it was flared by his recent, unusual jealousy. I could see something dark in his eyes, and they looked more green than blue. "But I guess I should've seen it coming. You like the innocent ones, don't you?" His comments wounded me more than I was prepared for. I'd let him too far into my life, and now, I was being attacked without mercy. I should've known better.

Sometimes, I forgot how young Clark was because of the maturity of our relationship. It was pure teenage angst that was running through him. I remembered being dramatic when I was a teenager and sighed. "To tell the truth, yeah, I might've dated Nell when I was younger, but I told her that I was engaged to you. She's one of the only people in this godforsaken town that understands where I'm coming from. I'm not allowed to have friends?" The lack of trust that he had in me and the wealth of it that I had in him was unbelievable. Maybe my father was right. "Lana kissed me because she thought it might save the Talon. She took advantage of the fact that she knew I was bisexual and tried to manipulate me. I guess Jor-El didn't show you that, did he?" I wasn't sure that the machine was still controlling us, but it was a possibility.

His eyes were still distrustful. It pained me to the core that he wasn't accepting my wholly truthful explanation. "You were flirting with her." If his idea of logic was being stubborn, I didn't know how long we could have this conversation. "I didn't see you stopping her. Maybe you were enjoying it." His envy seemed to know no bounds, and I wondered how far I would have to go to prove myself to him. "Lana's not the manipulative type. Maybe you forced her to kiss you in exchange for not ripping apart the Talon. She's not a lesbian. Why would she kiss you?" Damn, that train of thought hurt more than I'd expected.

"I'm not my father, Clark. If you don't know that, maybe we shouldn't be together at all," I snapped. I couldn't tell if we were shouting or not, but all of it seemed to echo in the dark house. "I'm not going to stand here and listen to you accuse me of things that you and I both know aren't true." I pushed the blanket off of me and grabbed my cell phone from my pocket. I avoided Clark when I stood and started heading for the door. I heard Martha and Jonathan murmuring upstairs and was sorry for waking them. Before I could get the door open, he turned me around and firmly pressed me between the door and his body. "Let me go." He was testing my patience.

I could see the rage in his eyes and let him see the same anger in mine. My phone was still in my hand, but he had my wrist in his hand and prevented me from putting it to my ear. "Where are you going? We're not done talking yet." It was the first time I'd seen him in the throes of unchecked anger. His grip on my wrists was more than a little painful. "You can't go anywhere. You don't have your car." It sounded like I was stranded here, but I was never truly trapped anywhere as long as my cell phone was working.

"You're hurting me. Let me go before you do something you regret." My voice was steely, and my words made the guilt reappear in his eyes. I took the opportunity to jerk my wrists from his grasp and dial number two on my phone. I glared at him as I put it to my ear and opened the door. When Celia spoke her name into the phone, I stepped out into the midnight air. "I need a car over at the Kent farm right away." She told me that one would arrive shortly, and I flipped my phone closed. I could hear Martha trying to calm Clark down and wondered if they had planned it when Jonathan came outside to talk to me.

"I don't know what's gotten into him. Just don't do anything drastic." Jonathan's low rumble of a voice calmed me down, and his blunt logic easily got through to me. I was pacing in the dirt and gravel of the driveway and impatiently awaiting the arrival of my car. In direct contrast to my high-strung anxiety, Jonathan appeared completely calm and relaxed. "Couples fight. Don't give up on him. He's still young." I didn't expect the urge to hug him, and I really didn't expect that I'd actually do it, but I did. His muscular arms were warm and welcoming, even in the middle of the night after being woken up by a lover's quarrel. He kissed my forehead.

"Thanks, Jonathan. I think this bonding thing is just stressing both of us out." I could hear a car pull up and pulled away from Clark's father. "I'll see you soon, okay?" He nodded, and I got into the back of the luxury car and did my seat belt. I didn't look at Clark as we pulled away, but he was all I thought about on the way back to the castle. I had the urge to smoke or drink, and the knowledge that I couldn't do either of them was like telling a rebellious child that they couldn't have a cookie and leaving the cookie jar in a room with them. I just rubbed my forehead and pinched the bridge of my nose to try and stave off the crushing sorrow. It was like trying to stop an avalanche.

The castle was thankfully deserted when I got home. I walked through the empty halls. Instead of home, it resembled a mausoleum or, more appropriately, a crematorium. I was in a daze as I went upstairs and straight to my bedroom, where my mother's bracelet still rested on the dresser. I slipped it around my wrist and looked at the ceiling to ask my mother what I was supposed to do now. The answer came. Love and be patient. It reminded me of that quote in the Bible. Love endures all things. I tried to keep that in mind when I headed down to the pool for a swim.

I hadn't been on any swim teams when I was young, but it was something that I could always come back to when I needed a place to think. It didn't take long to strip and put on one of the many bikinis I had stored in the locker room by the pool. It was a rich shade of violet. I left the bracelet sitting on top of my clothes with my watch and went out to the pool area. It was calm and dark, and only the pool was lit up in a soothing glow. I tested the water temperature with a tentative dip of my toe. The water was kept especially warm, and today was no exception. I lowered myself into the water slowly and started doing laps.

It was calmingly mindless. I could allow my mind to wander without worrying about anything. I didn't know how many I'd done until I finally opened my eyes. I didn't have to, because I knew the pool like the back of my hand and how far I could go in either direction by instinct, but I had that feeling again. The one that I was being watched. When I looked around, I thought it was just my imagination, but then my eyes hit a figure just barely illuminated by the light of the pool. "Hello?" I called out tentatively. I cringed as soon as I said it, because I was the one who always criticized the idiotic girls in horror movies who called out to their soon-to-be killer. I wasn't on top of my game.

I couldn't see them well enough to know how they reacted. I was cautious to swim over there until they spoke. "Do you mind if I wet my toes?" It was a female voice that was slightly high-pitched and butter-smooth. My memory failed me for the first time in years. How the hell had she gotten in? The castle had been too quiet, and I assumed that Celia was already asleep again. "We didn't have a pool in the institution." That was when it hit me. It was Amanda Rothman.

"Sure." I heard the clatter of shoes hitting the tile on the side of the pool and the scratch of rough fabric rubbing against itself, and then her feet were in the pool up to her ankles. I saw jeans rolled up shapely calves that were still appealing after so long and hands with unpainted nails gripping the side lightly. I still couldn't see her face. I fought to remain calm as I treaded water. "What are you doing here?" The question was almost friendly. It held no accusatory tone, which I was sure to avoid. The moment I started messing around with her fragile psyche was the moment she lost that temporary calm.

I saw her shoulder rise and fall with false nonchalance. "The first thing I thought of when I got out was you. I heard that you were here." She sounded so innocent that most people wouldn't know that she was a psychotic stalker. I was told that was how it often went for the insane. Maybe they were saner than all of us. "I wanted to apologize." Apologize? She wanted to _apologize _for setting the house on fire while I was tied to a chair inside? I felt my jaw clench in a natural response of anger, but other than that, I allowed none of my anger to surface in my face.

"Okay." There was no way that I was accepting that apology. The girl was insane. But I needed to act as normal as possible, because setting her off could have bad consequences. "What exactly did you expect when you came here?" I was trying to keep my voice even. I couldn't allow emotion to enter this, even though it was probably going to happen eventually. Stepping back from the situation when the girl that set me on fire was trying to make amends wasn't exactly easy.

Most people wouldn't have noticed her knuckles turning white from the intensity of her grip on the side of the pool, but I had keen observational skills. "I don't know. Maybe I wanted to know if you still had feelings for me. But I saw you at that boy's house for days, and then flirting with that slut at the Talon." A bead of sweat rolled down the side of my head. It felt like the water was getting warmer. It had to be my imagination. "You've been a bad girl while I was gone. You cheated on me. Now I have to punish you." Her voice almost sounded like that of a little girl. I couldn't stand the temperature of the water anymore, and while I was swimming to the nearest edge, it started boiling. The shock of the sudden burning everywhere made me go still, and my head slipped under the water.

I tried to breathe and ended up with a lungful of hot water. I could feel it eating at my insides and my skin. I finally started moving my arms, even though my entire body felt like it was on fire. It felt like my flesh was peeling off when I finally made it to the ladder and climbed out of the water. I struggled to breathe as my enflamed body met the air at room temperature, and it felt like I was dumped in a tub of ice. Or flesh-eating acid. I was trembling as pieces of my skin were left on the tile beneath me, because she was getting close, and I had to try and get away. My skin tingled in certain spots that I knew were already healing.

Her hand touched my head, where the burns were still prominent on my skin. I hissed at the pain of pressure on the hyper-sensitive skin and gritted my teeth against it. I couldn't even think. The pain was at a point where my brain was beyond thought and was all instinct. Right now, it told me to get away from this psycho bitch as soon as possible. She forced my chin up, and my eyes finally met hers. Hers were amber, almost like my father's, but much more dynamic. Her lips were the same plump ones that had been fun to kiss for the week or so that we spent together. "You're so beautiful, even without your hair. You heal so fast," she murmured in a voice filled with a child's awe.

_Clark. Clark. _I kept saying his name in my mind, and it was the one thought that I latched onto with all my mental strength. My skin was almost completely healed, and my breathing came easier. I was sick with the smell and vomited dinner on the tile next to me. Amanda made sympathetic noises and pressed her hand into my arm. She got a good hold on it before it started burning, and it all clicked. She was the source of the temperature of the pool and my car exploding. It was her face I had seen in the midst of the fire. Clark was probably asleep and angry, and he wouldn't come over until the morning. God. I couldn't wait that long.

She took her hand away, and the wound started to heal before her intrigued eyes. They had a gleam to them when the skin closed up and was good as new. "Don't you see, Lex? We're meant to be together. This just proves it. I can take care of the boy, and we can be together forever." I pictured the farm house going up in flames. Martha and Jonathan wouldn't survive, and it would be all my fault. I couldn't let that happen. Her fingers caressed my lips, and my mind started working again. It would be a lot of pain, but it might work.

"I love you, Mandi." She went still at those words, and her lips parted in surprise. She hadn't expected me to agree with her. "I always have. I just didn't realize it back then. When I was without you, I always felt like there was something missing, but I didn't know what it was until now." I thought of Clark's grin when I smiled so that it didn't carry a falseness to it and pushed myself up to a standing position. She was looking at me with wide, hopeful eyes. She was sick. I leaned in and ran my hand over her cheek. Her eyes fluttered shut, and that was when I pushed her into the pool with all my strength.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the end of it. I jumped in and swam over to her while she was still sputtering and trying to breathe. I grabbed pieces of her long, brown hair and shoved her head down under the water with all my weight on top of her. The pool water started boiling again, and my hands were burning terribly hot, but I closed my eyes and tried to survive. _Please, protect the baby. _By now, I was praying to God that I would survive this ordeal with my baby intact and that Amanda would be locked up again.

That wasn't true. I didn't want her to be locked away. I didn't want her alive. My skin and muscle were being boiled off the bone, and I wanted that bitch to die. I sobbed at the enormous amount of pain that I was suffering, and my bikini had melted off. I didn't want to look down at the damage. I just wanted to make it out alive. The water finally stopped boiling and came back down to the appropriate temperature, but I could still feel whatever was left of my hands sizzling. I held her down for what felt like hours. In reality, it was a little over five minutes. For having been thoroughly burned, I felt strangely cold. Shock. I was going into shock.

I finally let go and swam to the edge. I managed to get myself up with my arms and legs, because my hands were useless. I turned them over and saw the bones beneath the sparse flesh and muscle of my fingers and my palms. It was a sickening sight. I still didn't look down at my healing torso. I was afraid that I would look down and see that my breasts weren't there anymore, so I kept my eyes on the lifeless form floating in the middle of my pool. I shuddered. I wouldn't swim in this pool again for a while, if ever. I shouted as loudly as I could for Celia. If she heard me, it would be nothing short of a miracle.

She was dead. Amanda was dead. Finally. All these years of torture, and she was finally dead. She wouldn't always be in the back of my mind. I tried to avoid the real truth, which was that I had killed her. It was self-defense. After years in therapy, she had no chance of rehabilitation, and she would've been a ward of the state for the rest of her life. It was one less psychopath for the state to deal with. I was trying to justify it, but the hollowness in my heart wouldn't be satisfied until Clark knew. I watched my hands heal. First came the tight cords of muscle growing around the bone, and then came some new, pink tissue before the pale skin was replaced. It was fascinating, but I didn't like being nearly burned to death.

I waited another five minutes for my body to finish healing before I put a hand on my stomach. "Are you there?" I whispered to it. My father would've told me that I was being foolish, but I felt warmth rush to my heart that had nothing to do with fire. Either it was answering me, or I was going insane. Both options were possible. I'd just killed a woman in my pool, and my fiancé was an alien from another planet. Yeah. My life was fantastic. And normal. Completely and totally normal. With that thought, I walked into the locker room and calmly put on my clothes and jewelry. The shirt was a t-shirt that I'd borrowed from Clark, which I may or may not have been thinking about keeping, and an old pair of jeans. My mother's bracelet fit on my wrist perfectly, and its presence was mentally fortifying.

I made my way to the main part of the house and went toward the back before I reached Celia's bedroom. I knocked on the door, and she mumbled, "Hang on." I waited for no more than ten seconds before Celia opened the door, fully clothed. "What is it?" Oh, nothing. I just got attacked by _another _meteor mutant, fifth one this fucking month, and drowned her in the pool. Go clean it up. Use the net if you have to. Separate the head from the body in case she's a vampire. That was what I wanted to say, but I thought better of it. It was best that I remained professional with Celia.

"I was attacked in the pool. It was another meteor mutant looking for revenge. Call the police, and have them deal with it. I'm going back to the Kent farm, so call me if you need me. Tell the police that if they need a statement, I'll give them another one tomorrow." There was no doubt about where I was going after _that _episode. Either Jor-El was fucking with Clark and me, or this new power was erratic and untimely. No matter what it was, I didn't like it. Celia nodded, and I headed to the garage. Since my luck had been terrible with Porsches lately, I chose my purple Mercedes.

The drive back to the farm was an endless stretch of black road and made me want to fall asleep. That wouldn't be a good idea. I wasn't sure I could survive another attack today. Getting blown up and getting boiled _twice_ was bad enough already. Thinking of it gave me chills. I was comforted when I pulled into the familiar driveway, and I could see that the lights were already on. Obviously, the Kents had been woken up for the last time tonight. I had given up knocking on the door and simply entered the house. Martha was in the kitchen holding a kettle, and Clark was sitting down at the kitchen table. He stood up when he saw it was me. "Hey. I'm sorry about earlier."

I knew that he meant it, but I couldn't smile. "You didn't feel it?" When he looked at me with confusion in his eyes, I clarified. "I was attacked again. It was Mandi. I'll spare you the details. She's dead." I suddenly had myself a handful of Clark. He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tightly to him. I could feel his heart beating faster than normal. At least he was actually concerned about me this time. Though, it had been my fault for not explaining to him right away about Lana and Nell. Clark's body was fresh and warm, and I never wanted to leave his arms again. I felt tears prickling at my eyes, but I didn't allow them to form. "I missed you already."

I breathed it into his ear and felt a response rush into my chest. It was his emotions that I was feeling. "God. What happened?" he asked softly, and I felt the guilt form in his chest. He hadn't been there, he hadn't been listening. I was sure that those were two of many thoughts running through his head with his upright moral code. I remembered looking down at my hands and wondering if they would grow back. Jor-El's gift was amazing. I was standing here, whole and unharmed, after being literally burnt to a crisp. Had that happened with my slower rate of recovery, I would've been in the hospital for weeks or months if I wasn't dead.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Martha's voice asked it from the kitchen, and I nodded before Clark and I went to sit at the kitchen table. She poured a steaming cup of chamomile for me, and I let it cool while I thought of how to tell this story without cringing. I left my hands on the table and didn't put them near the cup so I wouldn't get burned again. I'd had enough of that for tonight. I wondered if my father had planned this entire thing and if he knew about Mandi's powers. If he did, he'd put my life at risk just because he wanted me back in Metropolis. My father was angry, and emotions clouded his judgment, so it was entirely possible.

I recounted the story with amazing detachment for a woman whose skin had been burned off. Martha went pale halfway through my story, and she kept holding her hand over her mouth like she was going to be sick. I didn't blame her. Clark's sea green eyes were nearly in tears because he was so distraught that he hadn't heard my mental pleas. I caught it immediately and stopped at that point. I wouldn't have Clark blaming himself because he couldn't read minds. "You can't be everywhere at once. I'm just glad that you're here with me now." He pulled me into a kiss, and Martha pretended to have some business to take care of in the living room.

"You almost died twice today because I wasn't there. I have to protect you and the baby," he said firmly. I took a moment to rest my head on his shoulder so that my face was in the crook of his neck. Clark always had a slight bit of stubble, but he never grew full facial hair. I wondered if he shaved. When I took a deep breath, all I could smell was pure Clark, just an inexplicable mix of peaches and sunflowers. He smelled like the farm. Not the cow dung and horse shit, but the great aspects of it that made it home.

"What about school?" Clark still had two months to go before he was released for summer vacation. "You can't be with me twenty-four seven, Clark. Even if you could, you would drive me nuts." I gave him a smile that lightened the comment. "This is Smallville. If I wanted a day of peace and quiet without meteor freaks, I'd move back to Metropolis. But then I wouldn't have you. So I'm staying here, risking the awesome health that Jor-El gave me, because I love you, and I want you to be happy." I didn't realize that Martha was still listening, but by then, it didn't matter anyways. She was one of the family.

"I guess I have to go to school," Clark mumbled with a glare in his mother's general direction. "But I want to be with you when you go to the castle. I could come over evenings and stay the night." I didn't think that Martha and Jonathan would have a problem with that, considering my current condition. "You could help me with my homework." I knew full well that Clark didn't need any help with his homework, because he'd already told me that he'd memorized the books. It was amazing. I could pull a quote out of a book, but I had to commit the words to memory or be extremely interested in the book.

"Like I said, you can't be with me all the time. You still have to spend time with Pete, Chloe, and your parents." I didn't like Pete. The few times I'd met him in passing, he glowered at me like I'd just murdered his puppy. But that didn't mean that Clark should abandon him. "Plus, I have to plan for our wedding. The human one," I emphasized with a smile. "That'll keep me too busy to play with the meteor freaks."

Like they ever asked to play. I kissed Clark one more time and suggested that we go upstairs. His bed was really too small for the both of us, but I never said anything about it. We both fit as long as I lay on top of him or pressed against his side. There was nowhere else I'd rather be.


	23. Somewhere to Hide

I spent the next few days resting and slowly working on getting back to normal. At least, what qualified as normal in Smallville. But apparently, there was no rest for the wicked. Two days after the incident with Amanda, my father called to inform me that he was tearing down the castle the next day. Whatever I wanted, I had to get it out by then. It was a spiteful move and a way to hurt me, but he didn't realize that I had already found a home, and it wasn't at the castle. It was with the Kents. It was the only place where I felt I truly belonged. Of course, I couldn't move all my things into Clark's room, so I had most of it moved to the penthouse in Metropolis that I had inherited from my mother. My father couldn't take that from me.

The small amount of precious things that I owned and a few items of important furniture were moved to the apartment in the back of the Talon. I had my people working overtime to renovate the apartment so that it was fit for me to inhabit it. While they were painting and replacing the appliances, any of my personal items were temporarily left in the lobby of the theater. The only things I took were the contents of the safe, which were stored in a smaller, portable safe, all of my books, my bed, the table from the dining room, the desk from my office, and all of my clothes and personal belongings. I didn't mind leaving the castle behind. It was cold no matter how high I turned the thermostat, and I didn't need all that room anyways.

When they were finally done, the place was completely transformed. The walls were painted with a fresh coat of pale purple paint, the appliances were all new, and all of my books had been placed in custom-made bookshelves that lined two whole walls exactly in the order they were in at the mansion. I would have to pay them extra for that one. They had installed a jacuzzi in the bathroom, and there was a large shower for practicality. There were already towels in the closet and food in the kitchen. The kitchen was smaller than I'd hoped for, but it was made bigger by having the dining area extended into part of the living room.

I was equipped with a big-screen television and all of my movies from the castle. I could see this place being a second home for me. The kitchen, bathroom, and living room were downstairs, and my room and my office were upstairs. It was my own little safe haven away from my father. At least he didn't have the key to this place. I was going to spend the night here, but I didn't want to have my first night in the new apartment without Clark. I took one of my sixty-four rescued cars, the purple Mercedes, and went to the Kents' farm. The rest of the cars were stored safely in Metropolis and could be retrieved if necessary. I hoped that I wouldn't destroy any more of my beautiful cars.

Instead of being alone in my brand-new apartment, I stayed the night in Clark's room with his arms wrapped around me. The morning was going as it should have been. I was busy with a call from Lana stating her proposal and setting a meeting time with her at the Talon for tonight so that she could show me her sketches. She sounded a lot brighter now that she didn't have to sleep with me to save the building, and I had to admit that she was a lot more reasonable than an empty-headed cheerleader. Maybe I shouldn't have stereotyped her so quickly. Right when I hung up the phone, Martha raced through the kitchen at a pace that would rival Clark's. "What's going on?"

She appeared surprised to see me there, as if she hadn't been expecting me. "Oh, dear, I forgot that you were here. I thought you were busy with the Talon." She was full of energy, and I could sense that something was up. Her blue eyes flashed in realization. "Jonathan's been in a car accident, but he's alright. He rescued another man. I need to go and pick him up before I go back in town. Keep an eye on him when he gets back?" Clark was at school, so I was the only option. I nodded, because I didn't have a problem with it. I was sure that he would hate being watched very closely, but it wasn't like I would mother him.

"No problem, Martha." I smiled at her, and she gave me a customary hug. I was no longer tense when she wrapped her arms around me and squeezed. "Don't drive too fast. Be safe," I called after her as she went out the door, and then I shook my head. Out of all people, I was telling people to drive safely. My average speed on Smallville roads was about ninety miles per hour. I couldn't help that enjoying fast cars was in my genes. I planned on using the rest of the morning to catch up on my managerial paperwork. As much as I didn't like it, I still was the official manager of the plant. I had a feeling that it wouldn't be long before my father took that from me, too.

I hadn't realized how long I had been working until Jonathan entered the house. "Hi, Jonathan," I greeted without looking up. I sensed change in the air as he moved, and I glanced up to see that his movement had changed. His walk was less of an old farmer's walk and more of a swagger. Was I imagining things? I was acutely aware of his presence behind me even as I returned my eyes to my computer screen. I was watching his reflection. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck, and if I had any hair, it would be standing up. "Martha said that you were in some kind of car accident. Are you feeling okay?"

He didn't return my greeting. Instead, his pale blue eyes looked down at the reports I was filling out, and he blew air through his softly closed lips, which made a sound that insinuated that he didn't think much of my work. "Better than ever, actually." He grabbed my unfinished stack of reports and allowed them to drop with a light thud on the coffee table. "You've done enough work this morning, don't you think? Besides, I have something I want to show you in the barn." His eyes carried a twinkle to them, and I shrugged my shoulders. Whatever it was, it was obviously something that he was excited about. I trusted him.

"Okay." He placed a hand on the small of my back and followed me to the barn. There was nothing there. Both of the heavy doors out of the barn were shut, and the place carried an almost spooky aura. The dim lighting didn't exactly help, and neither did the sound of Jonathan locking the door behind him. I turned to face him quickly, and he slipped his keys into his back pocket. "What are you doing?" Martha told me to keep an eye on him, but I had a feeling that this wasn't what she meant. The world turned upside down, and pain shot through my jaw where he'd smacked me. I used my hands to catch myself and break my fall.

It was only when I looked up at him with confusion that I realized that I'd done exactly what he'd been waiting for. His boot smacked solidly into the bottom of my chin and knocked me to the floor on my back. That one hurt more than the previous blow, but it didn't compare to the crunching of my broken fingers under his boot. I didn't like showing pain, but a whimper escaped my mouth at the sheer agony that my fingers were going through and the dull throbbing of my jaw. "I know what you're doing." I wanted to respond with sarcasm, but it was time to keep my mouth shut. "You got Clark to knock you up so he couldn't leave you. And you tried to make all of us feel sorry for you by telling us that sob story."

Anger flared up inside. It was the familiar burn crawling from my stomach into my chest. "If I had my choice, none of you would know anything about what Lionel did to me." That was definitely true. He only laughed and crouched down next to me. He had a roll of duct tape in his hands and pulled a strip off with his teeth. "You don't want to do this." I hated that my voice sounded pathetic. What I hated was that Jonathan seemed to pick up on that. He forced my hands over my head and taped my wrists together. They were double-wrapped, but that wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. He could've done a better job. Unfortunately, there wasn't much slack to work with.

"You know what I think? I think that your son of a bitch father tried to punish you, and you liked it." He whispered it into my ear and then licked it. The implication of what he said made me want to gag and cry at the same time. "You're so eager for my son to touch you. You like being dominated, don't you?" Before I could utter a retort, he was hovering over me and forcing my legs apart with his knees. I tried to take the opportunity to shove my knee into his balls, but he was too fast. I yelped when he grabbed my chin and slammed the back of my skull into the concrete floor. It wasn't much of a distance, but it was enough of a hit to leave me dazed and vulnerable. My vision was blurring.

His lips pushed against mine. His tongue forced my lips apart, and I wasn't conscious enough to keep my teeth clenched shut. His thick tongue was practically shoved down my throat, and I felt his hardness press against my inner thighs. He kissed me until I couldn't breathe, and I was dizzy when he finally released my lips. I had to fight back, but how the hell was I supposed to do that? I had to turn this around so that I had the advantage. Being the best actress I could, I arched up against him and moaned shakily.

"God," I breathed out, like I was enjoying it, before I wrapped my legs around his waist. It brought us closer, but it also forced a change in position. Jonathan picked me up and shoved me against the wall. The next kiss was like fire. I had to close my eyes and pretend like I didn't smell Jonathan's strong cologne and fresh hay. I dropped my hands to his denim-covered cock and murmured into his neck. "Let me take care of you." I sank to my knees and looked up from under my lashes to see the glint in his eyes. Typical male. He would take any opportunity he could get to have a girl suck his dick.

"No teeth," he warned as he undid his pants and took out his cock. He was already hard and only a little smaller than Clark. He was bigger than my father. I teased the head of his blood-filled cock, but it was obvious that he wanted control back. He grabbed the back of my head and shoved the whole of his cock into my mouth and throat, and I suppressed my gag reflex and swallowed around it. He had his arms holding himself up using the wall, and he was enjoying himself so much that I'd gotten my advantage. The element of surprise. I bit down, not as hard as I could, but hard enough so that he would feel it for a few days, and shot out of my position like a bat out of hell. "FUCK!"

His shout echoed through the barn, and I quickly carried out my search. I rushed up the stairs, up to Clark's so-called "Fortress of Solitude," and looked for something I could use. I heard Jonathan groaning in pain, but his groans were getting closer. I crouched down behind the worn, ratty couch with my weapon in hand. I heard a laugh, and I was nearly trembling with fear. After all, men didn't take kindly to almost having their dicks bitten off. The distraction had worked, and now I prayed that I would be able to pull off my haphazard plan without any unexpected hitches.

"You little bitch. You think there's anywhere in this barn you can hide that I don't know about?" I heard his pants being zipped up, and his boots were coming up the stairs. He didn't bother with trying to sneak around. He was confident enough that I had nowhere to run. "I'm going to fuck you until you scream and cry and beg for me to stop." I had no doubt that he would carry out that threat. When the wood creaked next to my hiding place, I jumped up and used my body weight to swing my arm. The telescope slammed into Jonathan's temple with a solid _thunk_, and his dead weight hit the floor. My hand was shaking, but I grasped the telescope like my life depended on it.

I would have to apologize to Clark later for using his Lana-stalking tool to clobber his insane father. Maybe I wouldn't. After all, he was supposed to be finished with Lana. I had more important things to worry about. I was too frightened to check and see if his heart was still beating. I kicked him to make sure that he was fully unconscious. The only movement of his body was caused by my foot. I quickly leaned down and felt for his pulse. It was steady and strong, and I drew my hand back before anything else could happen. When it appeared that he really was out cold, I snatched the keys from his pocket in one smooth motion and went down the stairs to unlock the door that led back inside the house. I didn't know what the hell to do. Martha didn't have a cell phone, and neither did Clark.

I was scared shitless of the man in the barn, but he wasn't waking up. It may have sounded like a good thing to me, but it meant that there was something going on. Maybe he'd been exposed to some kind of drug. He definitely hadn't been himself. Or maybe, I thought with some scorn, he'd been more himself than ever. I was disgusted that I thought of calling Lionel. I finally thought of taking him to the hospital. They could wean him off of whatever he was taking. I had a gun in my car for my own protection, so I would feel safe as long as he stayed lying down in the back seat.

It wasn't pleasant to drag him to the car. There was no lack of bumps to the head, but I was certain that he was tough enough to get over it. I checked my watch. It would be another three hours before Clark was home, and Martha hadn't said how long she would be. I really had to do this. Somehow, I found the strength to get him into the back seat. I had the gun between my thigh and the arm rest while I drove. The safety was on, but it wouldn't take me long to turn it off and point it at him if he woke up. He didn't. I didn't know if I should've been relieved or worried when he stayed unconscious all the way to the Smallville Medical Center. Luckily, I didn't have to carry him inside.

I made up some bullshit about him hitting his head and passing out, but I did mention that he'd been acting odd since the accident this morning. I didn't give them any specifics. They admitted him, and I felt no obligation to stay with the man who had just promised to rape me half an hour ago. It may have been cold, but it hurt me almost more than I could bear. Jonathan was supposed to be someone I could trust, and now he was in league with Lionel on terms of how I felt about him. I took a scalding hot shower when I got back to the Kent place. I felt another stain soak into my soul. It was something that couldn't be scrubbed off of my skin, but I sure as hell tried.

Every wound had been healed within minutes of its infliction. I waited until Martha got home and told her the news that Jonathan had been acting out of character that morning and had passed out. She said that she would wait for Clark to get home so that we could go to SMC together. I offered up an excuse. Lana's visit wasn't until later that night, but I mentally bumped it up so that I wouldn't have to see Jonathan again. I was still emotionally sore from earlier. The drive to downtown Smallville helped, and so did being alone in the Talon with the door locked behind me. I stayed in my apartment until it was time for Lana's visit.

The brunette appeared flighty and nervous when she arrived and I allowed her in. Paranoid as ever, I locked the door behind her, but I did it with a small smile. "Let's go into the apartment so we can both be comfortable." Her smile was anxious, but it was a good sign if the thick stack of papers in her hands was any indication. "How's your aunt doing?" I opened the door for her and closed it behind us, and I saw her take a moment to examine the living room. She almost seemed to forget herself until she sat down on the couch, which was black and made of buttery leather.

"She's fine." Her emerald eyes flitted over the whole of my form, but they rested on my neck. "Wow. Your burn healed already?" Instinctively, I reached up to touch my neck. The skin there was perfectly smooth. I could remember perfectly the times when it was wrinkled and hurt beyond comprehension. Every time I had touched it when it was burned, it had produced unbearable pain that overcame my senses and made me completely nauseated. I tried not to get lost in my thoughts and kept the smile glued onto my face. It would do no good to make her more nervous than she already was.

"Yes. I got lucky. It was a miracle that it didn't go any deeper." I was used to questions by now, and they could easily be deflected with little, white lies. I didn't mind those as much as Clark did, and he demanded honesty from me just as often as I demanded it from him. It was our unspoken agreement that we wouldn't keep things from each other anymore, but after today's incident, I wondered if Clark might be better off not knowing that his father had tried to rape his fiancée. It was something to think about when I was alone. "Can I see what you've come up with?" I held my hand out, and she handed me the papers warily.

"It's a coffee shop. I thought we could redecorate the lobby with Egyptian themes and make it a hang-out for high school kids." The first packet held drawings of Lana's idea of a makeover. I considered the décor that she'd come up with, and I found myself to be somewhat surprised. Lana had a good sense of fashion, and none of the colors clashed. The decorations definitely looked doable. "We could use the theater to show old movies. No one else does that, not since the drive-in closed last year. We could do a different one every week." Her ideas weren't half-bad. I knew where I could get some fantastic recipes for coffee and high-quality film reels of old movies. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be much of a profit until word-of-mouth spread, and that was only if the critique was good.

"You have good ideas there, but how are we supposed to generate profit when the Beanery's right across the street?" I was already working on ways to take them down. This could work. I would just have to be patient and take a loss until things got going, assuming they would get going. If not, I would be sinking money into this place for nothing. My father would've sneered and waved away the offer. He would've told Lana to go home and play with her dolls. It was precisely that that made me want to do it. It was a risk, but it was a risk that might eventually pay off. I waited to hear Lana's ideas.

"I considered that. Their coffee sucks, and so does the environment. It's busy, and barely anyone hangs out in there. If we get comfortable chairs, we could have people coming here just to read and have coffee. Good coffee. It could be a great spot to come and relax." More people, more coffee, more money. I could easily take down the Beanery with nothing but bad press, but giving the people an alternate place to get their coffee would be even better. Lana was itching to say something else, and her doe-like eyes looked up at me with sorrow in their depths. "I can't tell you how sorry I am about what happened in the flower shop." Oh. That. Clark's rage hadn't lasted through the whole day. "I'm not...like that." She bit her bottom lip.

I held up a hand to stop her. "I like your ideas, and I understand. When my mother died, my father threw out all of her things. He cleansed our house of her presence, and I had to hide everything that she'd given me." I didn't like sharing private stories, but we needed to be on the same page. I needed to cut the girl some slack. "I would've done anything to keep anything she touched. You didn't have your parents for long, so I understand that you want to keep anything that reminds you of them in order to feel closer to them." Lana's small hand covered mine and squeezed lightly. "So, we have a managerial position open if you're interested."

Her expression broke into a joyous smile, and I suddenly knew how much this had really meant to her as she pulled me into a hug. "Oh, thank you! I thought I was going to lose this place. I knew you'd understand." The only way to describe her aura was sunny. Some of it must've worn off on me, because I was smiling when she pulled away. "You know, everyone in this town thinks that you're just like your father, but you're not," she insisted. God, could this get any more gooey? Maybe if she tried to kiss me again. I hoped not. I couldn't take Clark being angry at me again.

"You're welcome," I said with a warm smile. "I'm going to have to do some major renovations. I'll let you know when we're ready to open for business. In the meantime, if you have any questions, feel free to stop by." After all, when the place actually did get going, I would have to deal with her on a daily basis. I might as well get used to having her around now. She wasn't as bad as I'd initially thought. She said something about having to go somewhere with Chloe, but she thanked me profusely before she left. I used the rest of the early evening to call my former staff at the castle and make sure that all of them were doing well without their jobs.

Most of them actually sounded happy to hear from me, while others were surly about losing their jobs. They all had new employment. My father hadn't provided anything for them, but they managed on their own. After all, having the Luthor name on their resumes probably helped. Celia was the only one who was concerned about what I was doing now. I quietly explained to her what had happened, and she offered her services in the future if I ever needed her. She was the one I had been close to, and I was pleased to hear that she was now in Metropolis protecting the mayor.

One glass of wine turned into three or four, which then turned into two bottles. There came a time when I had to shove my work aside because the letters had blurred indefinitely, and my eyes could no longer focus. I turned on the television and allowed the monotonous voice of the news anchor on CNN to put me to sleep on the couch. The stress of the day started to fade away, but my sleep was restless. I jumped when I felt familiar arms wrap around me, and Clark's soothing voice murmured, "It's just me. I broke your lock, but I'll fix it tomorrow." He was so sweet, I thought sleepily, and I might've said it out loud, because he let a small chuckle escape his throat. "Where's the bedroom?"

"It's upstairs," I mumbled. I was still exhausted and slightly drunk. I could feel the warmth that was still present in my veins, so it couldn't have been long since I passed out on the couch. Clark ascended the stairs with ease and pulled the sheets back before he placed me underneath them. "Stay." I reached for him and ended up with one of his arms, but I knew that it was superficial. He could walk away at any time without being fazed by my weak, tired grip. "I don't want to be alone tonight," I confessed. My father might've glared at me for uttering such weak words, but I didn't care about Lionel anymore. I wasn't his daughter. That was what his disowning me implied, and the severed connection was nice so far, with the exception of losing the castle.

"I'm not leaving you," he said softly. He stripped down to his boxers and slipped into the bed with me. It was so soft and big enough for the both of us, much unlike his twin-sized bed at home. How Clark ever fit in a twin in the first place was beyond me. "They can't find what's wrong with Dad." I inhaled sharply. What if knocking him unconscious had worsened his condition? What if I'd just been imagining things? There was always that fear of the hallucinations and the paranoia coming back, but no. I hadn't imagined that. My imagination couldn't come up with something so terrible. Clark's hand was resting on my waist. "I thought you might visit him, but you never came." It wasn't an accusation. He was slowly and carefully prying, because he knew that something had happened.

"I don't want to tell you while he's sick, Clark. I would never forgive myself if he--if something happened to him, and you were angry at him." There. It was out. That was the truth. No secrets lay between us, and I didn't want any secrets or lies to separate us ever again. "Promise me, if what Jor-El said ever happens, if I become my father..." A tear slipped down my cheek, and Clark's fingers quickly wiped it away. He was shaking his head "no," but I needed to get it out. "I want you to kill me." His eyes flashed with a mixture of confusion, anger, and sadness. I had upset him. I knew that I had to eventually.

"No. It won't happen, Lex. I won't let it happen," he emphasized with a serious look in his eyes. "Calm down," he said in a timbre meant to relax me. It was working. "You're not supposed to drink, remember?" I felt a sharp pang of guilt when I realized that I had forgotten, but his comforting hand was there to cup my cheek and reassure me. "Don't worry. Our baby is Kryptonian. We're thick-skinned," he said with an adorable, beaming grin. "But no more alcohol, okay?" I nodded drowsily, and he kissed my lips extremely gently. It was a ghost of a touch. I wanted to reach up and touch my lips to make sure that it was real, but I didn't have the strength. "I love you."

"I love you, too. My hero. My conscience." Maybe the circumstances mixed with the alcohol made me a little maudlin, but I didn't care. It was all true, and I placed my lips on his in a solid kiss. "Do you think I'll be a good mother?" I was so afraid that since my mother had died, my father's ministrations had forever messed with my head. I was afraid that when the baby came, I wouldn't feel anything for it. I wouldn't be able to love it, because Lionel had fucked me up so much that it was no longer possible. But I loved Clark. I knew that. How could I not love something that came from my body? How could I turn away a creature that was the combination of me and Clark?

"Of course. She'll love you." A small, crooked grin twisted Clark's mouth. "Or he. I'd like for it to be a girl so we can name her Lily. Ever since you said it, I can't get it out of my mind." He rubbed a hand over my stomach. "But I wouldn't mind if it was a boy, either." I could tell from the wistfulness of his voice that he really wanted a girl. I did, too. I couldn't explain exactly why, but a boy didn't seem right to me. Images of a little girl came much more easily than a little boy. I had a feeling that it was another of Jor-El's little tricks. Maybe Kryptonians operated on a much higher level of awareness than humans did.

I fell asleep with dreams of an adorable girl with red hair and green eyes and couldn't help but think that she looked so much like my mother. She had freckles, but when I looked at the shape of her eyes and the curve of her grin, I knew that they were Clark's features. I wanted that little girl more than anything, and suddenly, becoming a mother didn't seem so farfetched anymore. I could give her all the love and compassion that my father never gave me, and she would never have to experience the terrible pain of loneliness. At the moment, I felt like I could protect her from the world, my imaginary daughter. I only hoped that I really could.


	24. Goodbyes

**A/N: **Thank you all for commenting! You guys really brighten up my day, and reading your comments always gives me new ideas! Keep it up! As for Jonathan's repressed feelings towards Lex, he's had to push aside all that hate for her and her father, and it's turned into something else. Like Clark, he has an overwhelming need to protect her, but he's also not immune to feelings toward a twenty-one-year-old girl living under his roof. All that hatred was brought out by the Nicodemus flower, and hatred can easily turn into desire. I wish there were more Lex/Jonathan fics out there, because it's a totally legitimate and underused pairing.

I woke up with the sun shining through the curtains and Clark's warm body wrapped around me. I didn't need a blanket with the heat that he gave off, and they were kicked to the foot of the bed. When my eyes wandered to the clock, I realized that he needed to start getting ready for school. Would he go with Jonathan in the hospital? I was certain that Martha would let him stay home if he wanted to. I felt his body moving and stretching beside me and turned on my other side to look at him. His beautiful eyes, like a dynamic mix between emerald and sapphire, fluttered open beneath thick lashes and gave me a dazed look. "School?" I asked in a sleepy voice, and it was as if I'd suggested a nuclear war.

He groaned out, "Nooo," and shoved his head beneath a pillow. I couldn't help but smile, because I used to be the exact same way about school. It was pointless when they were teaching me things that I already knew, and it didn't really interest me until I got into college. I would've stayed in college had it not been for my rebellious exploits involving some of the harder drugs. My father had paid everyone off, but there was nothing he could do when I ended up stoned out of my mind on the front page of the paper. Clark didn't have that problem, but he was very intelligent and a quick learner. Sitting amongst the huddled, idiotic masses must've been extremely difficult for him.

I lifted the pillow and ran my fingers through his thick curls. He was in need of a hair cut, but I liked his hair a little long and untamed. I wondered if it would straighten out if he allowed it to grow longer. "Your father's in the hospital. I don't think anyone expects you to go today," I said softly. My fingers were still running through his silky hair and taking their time rubbing his scalp. "But we're going to have breakfast at your house. I think the cook left me things to warm up, but I have no idea what I'm doing." I heard a muffled snicker and wrinkled my nose. "It's not my fault my father never let me cook." I remembered baking cookies a few times with my mother, but those comforting memories were left untouched for the most part. As much comfort as they offered, they also came with the severe pain of reminding me that she was gone forever.

"Mmm. Mom's cooking," he mumbled into the pillow. I was jealous of his skin's inability to conform to pillow creases, especially since mine seemed to attract them. Being bald didn't help. I heard his stomach growl as if on cue and laughed. I reached out to tickle his abs in order to coerce him from bed, and he let out a growl before pouncing on top of me. I hooked one of my legs around his waist to get closer to him. His teeth scraped against the sensitive skin of my neck, and before we could do anything else, his stomach gave another rumble. I sighed playfully and allowed him to get up. He blushed scarlet. "Sorry. I can't turn it off."

Even if he hadn't said that he was sorry, the beautiful blush that painted his high cheekbones and the adorably sheepish look in his eyes would be apology enough. "It's okay. We should get ready and head over there." Clark's shower took approximately two minutes, while mine took a slow ten. I was more indulgent in showers. I spent more time luxuriating in the task of washing my skin to make up for my lack of hair to pay attention to. I put on a violet, button-up silk blouse and rolled the cuffs up to my elbows. I left it untucked over my dark jeans and made sure to put on my sunglasses. I ran a toothbrush over my teeth to get rid of the acidic aftertaste of the wine and found Clark by the door already.

I was reminded of the broken lock and winced at the thought of leaving the door like that. There wasn't any visible sign, but I could never be careful enough. "I'll fix it today," he promised. Sometimes, I could swear that he could read my mind. When we exited the Talon, Clark's gaze swept up and down the street to make sure that no one was watching before he lifted me up and sped to the farm. The experience was no better than the first, but at least I hadn't eaten anything this time. It was extremely disorienting to be in one place one moment and another the next, but I allowed my system to adjust by leaning on the counter of the kitchen when Clark set me down.

Martha was already in the kitchen and making things that smelled wonderful. Blueberry pancakes, eggs, bacon, and sausage were all on the menu, and I noticed with a twinge of reproach that there was enough for Jonathan. Had he gotten better? Should I have felt good about that or terrible? Martha's blue eyes had wrinkles at the corners when she smiled, and that was the only sign of her exhaustion. It was obvious that she hadn't slept well. I didn't blame her. "Good morning, you two. Go ahead and have a seat." Clark and I sat next to each other at the table, and I could tell that he was thinking the same thing that I was. Either Martha was having trouble coping, or Jonathan really had been released. "I brought Jonathan home late last night. They were able to manufacture a cure." Sure enough, the man himself walked into the room looking a fair bit tired himself. When his eyes moved towards me and Clark, I pretended to be staring idly at something in the other direction.

Clark jumped up with a huge smile on his face and raced over to his father with a breeze. "Dad! You're okay!" I felt some guilt and wondered just how sad Clark had been last night. Instead of being conscious and able to talk to him, I had been drinking my own problems away. He took care of me when I was supposed to be comforting him. Jonathan gave a strained laugh when Clark squeezed him hard, and my ribs ached in sympathy. When Clark finally let him go, the older man had a seat at the table and drank from a freshly poured cup of coffee. I didn't know what to say. I was glad that he hadn't died, but at the same time, something inside me burned with hatred for what he'd done to me under the influence.

"Did they ever find out what it was?" It was the only polite question I could think of that would also satisfy a little bit of my curiosity. Jonathan's blue-gray eyes shifted over to me, and I had to struggle to keep my eyes on his. It was easy to look my father in the eye because he knew exactly what he'd done to me. I was torn between trying to tell him that he'd wronged me in some way through a glare and pretending like everything was normal. I preferred the latter, but my emotions were all over the place. Like a wounded lion, I wanted to hide my wound and regain my pride. I wasn't sure I could. Jonathan was someone that I couldn't avoid seeing. It would catch up with me eventually.

"They said it was some kind of radioactive flower pollen. It hasn't been around for a hundred years, so they had to do some research to figure out how to cure it." The weight of his gaze was removed from me as he turned it on Clark. "I saw Lana in the hospital late last night, son. You might want to go and check on her, but they said that she would be fine." I closed my eyes and thanked God that Lana hadn't turned up on my doorstep last night. I was so distracted by the thought that I almost missed Clark's reaction. Nervous, hesitant, evasive. How he used to look when he'd done something that was impossible and offered up some lame excuse like adrenaline. He was keeping something from me. I waited for his eyes to meet mine, and I knew that we would both share our secrets later. Each one was like a block placed squarely between us. I wouldn't be able to handle it if they started building up.

Martha sensed the dissention between me and Clark and finished cooking the pancakes at the perfect time. With the sight of her famously delicious pancakes in front of me, all my tension was near-forgotten as I dug into my breakfast. I plowed through my eggs and bacon, then loaded up my plate with more pancakes. I was in mid-bite when I realized how much I had eaten. I thoughtfully chewed my pancakes and saw that Clark and I were the only ones still eating. Martha was sipping coffee and watching me with a warm look in her eyes. Jonathan was reading the paper. "Clark and I are going to eat you out of house and home," I mused to Martha, who only smiled. Her entire face was lit up, and I knew that it helped her to feel something positive after such a negative experience.

"You're eating for two now. Make sure you eat all you want. Maybe you should see a gynecologist." I definitely wasn't worrying about the baby's health with my semi-Kryptonian healing ability, but my track record for getting injured had increased tenfold since moving to Smallville. It still wouldn't make me comfortable in those goddamn stirrups. I was certain that there was no medical reason for them other than humiliation. Jonathan's interest in the paper went up, and I saw him and Clark redden at the discussion. Martha gave me a wry smile. "The Kent men can handle deadly flower toxins and meteor rocks, but make one mention of the female anatomy and they're scared shitless." I grinned and laughed at her word usage. It wasn't often that Martha cursed, but when she did, it was always humorous.

"Mom, I just ate!" Clark complained noisily, but I could see a glint of laughter in his eyes. His nose was wrinkled in false disgust, even as his left hand rested on my thigh underneath the table in silent support. I had a feeling that Clark might get jealous if he went to the gynecologist with me, but some other man or woman's hands on parts that he claimed as his was unsettling, even to me. Plus, I would have to go to Metropolis. I didn't want to leave the calm quiet of Smallville to venture into my father's den. Knowing him, he would corrupt the gynecologist and get them to kidnap me or something. After the incident with Amanda, I trusted him even less than before. It just reinforced the old adage he'd been spouting at me since I was a child. Trust no one. They'll all betray you in the end. I couldn't imagine that happening with Martha and Clark, but it had already happened with Jonathan. Even if he hadn't been himself, he'd still done it.

Martha got up with her plate in hand and flicked Clark's invulnerable ear. "Help me clean up, you nuisance." Her tone was playful, and Clark groaned half-heartedly before he collected all of the empty dishes. "No using super speed this time," she chided. I only realized that there was a method to her madness when Jonathan's eyes met mine and his head tilted towards the back door. Damnit. This was exactly what I wanted to avoid. I nodded despite my inner conflict and put my coat on when he handed it to me. Martha had taken the time to buy me a coat to keep here at the farm so that I would never have to go cold during my often impromptu trips here. It was cooler than usual outside, and it wasn't until we were far away from the house that Jonathan spoke up.

"Martha told me that you dropped me off at the hospital when no one else was home. I wanted to thank you for that." Just his mention of it brought back the cold fear and the gun by my hip. I felt an uncertain smile flit over my features that was gone as soon as it came. His dirty blonde hair blew in the wind as he turned to face me with his hands in his pockets. His face was more weathered from his trip to the hospital, but those pale blue eyes were clearly concerned. "She also told me that I was acting out of character. I would apologize, but I don't remember anything after the car accident. Do you want to tell me what happened?" I hesitated. His boot kicked the dirt as he released a sigh. "I haven't missed the change in you this morning. You know you can tell me anything, Lex." It was so fatherly I couldn't stand it.

Somehow, "I sucked your cock and you threatened to rape me" didn't sound right. Saying anything else would be outright lying. It was my turn to stare down at the dirt as if it held all the answers. "You beat the hell out of me" seemed just as wrong. I grimaced as I looked back up at him. He was patiently waiting for my answer, but as I gave him a second look, I saw that there was tension wired in his body. Did he know the extent of what he did to me? "What do you think happened?" Clark hated when I answered a question with another question, but it was a habit of mine when I was on the defensive.

He gave me a level gaze that said that wasn't going to cut it. "I know something happened. You're screaming it. It's not right to burden yourself with something that I did. It was my fault." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I've been weak. I've had...urges and desires that I shouldn't. I have toothmarks on my penis, Lex." There it was, out in the open between us like a cloud between the sun and the sky. I stared at him in order to take in his stance. His head was slightly tilted to the side, like he might find some humor in that last statement if it weren't such a glaring stain on his character. "You were the only one home. I seriously doubt that it was willing." His rough voice softened, and I knew immediately that he would place all blame on himself, even if it happened as a result of the drug.

"You're right. It wasn't." I didn't like this discussion. I wanted to worm out of it, and that was why I made myself stay. I couldn't run away from my problems. I had to face up to them and annihilate them. I saw sympathy in his eyes that allowed me to continue. "But you weren't yourself. You knocked me to the floor and kissed me. I figured if I tried to bite your dick off, you might back off. It worked, I ran up to the loft, and I used Clark's telescope to bash your skull in." The cropped, generic version was missing a lot of details, but it still affected him the same as if I had launched into every tiny part of it. I could see the worry lines in his forehead increase. "Look, I understand. You were under the influence. I know that you love Martha and would never have done that if it weren't for the toxin." My words were genuine, and I made sure that it showed through my eyes.

"I am so sorry for everything I did and said. I'm just as bad as Lionel." He was angry at himself. I was already convinced that he was better than my father, no matter what he'd done under that stupid drug's spell. I could see the exhaustion in his bones written across his face, and I made a decision. I stepped closer to him and threw my arms around him in a comforting hug. He seemed surprised at first, but he returned it with equal tenacity and patted my back with his hand. "Thanks." It was almost a whisper in the quiet air.

"My father was completely sober when he did what he did. He did it more than once, and it was used as punishment when I made a mistake. You accidentally inhaled a drug that made you lose your inhibitions, and you didn't even get in my pants. I forgive you, and I want you to know that you're _nothing _like him. You've done more for me than he ever could." God, I was almost crying. At least he could bear to look at me after what had happened. I let out a breath and opened my eyes. There was a small, white shape against the green of the fields, and I pulled back to get a better look. "Is that a child?" I asked with wonder in my voice, and Jonathan followed my gaze. Sure enough, there was a little boy wandering in the back of the field. There was corn behind him. He looked weary. Like he couldn't even see us.

"I'll go and get him. Tell Martha to call Sheriff Ethan." Jonathan started running to the boy, and I jogged the distance to the house. As soon as I came in through the back door, I literally ran into Clark's solid form. Ouch. It felt like running into a wall, which made a whole lot of sense, but it wasn't very good for my inner balance. The slight disorientation went away when I saw Clark's eyes staring apprehensively into mine.

"We need to call the Sheriff. There's a boy in the field. He's young and no one's with him." I saw Martha go for the phone and dial a number that they probably had memorized with all the problems out here, and I took my seat at the table, which had been cleaned and cleared off since breakfast. The aroma of Martha's cooking hung in the air, but there was no way I could possibly eat anything else. Instead, I took my nervousness out on a cup of coffee. I nearly jumped out of my seat when Jonathan appeared carrying the boy. Upon closer inspection, he had short, brown hair that was shaved close to his head on the bottom and longer on top. He had mahogany eyes that were currently glazed over, and he was wearing clothes that were slightly too big for him and a backpack.

"Martha, could you get him some water?" Jonathan carried him to the couch in the living room, and Martha hovered over him with a glass of water. Clark was standing in the doorway of the living room, but I was content to watch from the kitchen. The kid probably didn't need another new face at the moment. "What's your name, son?" My nervousness toward Jonathan was completely forgotten. The Kent house had been thrown into an uproar by this stray's appearance. I checked my cell phone and found that I had a new message from my father asking me to meet him at the Talon twenty minutes ago. I scowled. The bastard had probably taken advantage of the broken lock to get inside and snoop. Clark was intently focused on the newcomer until I kissed him on the cheek and got his attention.

I spoke in a low voice. "My father's at the Talon. I have to go drive him away. Could you take me really quick?" He nodded and came with me outside. It only took us seconds to get to an unoccupied spot near the Talon, and he disappeared after dropping me off. I huffed. I wasn't jealous of the boy in the least. I was a little jealous of how all of Clark's attention was focused on him. Was this how it would be once I had the baby? It was a thought stored for later review as I entered my own business and found my father standing in the lobby. I was almost certain that he had already been in the apartment. "I thought you were going back to Metropolis." There were no pleasantries. He didn't deserve the effort it took to be polite. I was too irritated at his presence in my new home to consider strategy.

Lionel smirked. To anyone else, it would look harmless, but I knew that the cat had eaten the canary and was savoring its weight in his stomach and the taste of fresh blood on his teeth. "I was surprised when you bought this dump. I hope you don't mind, but I took a look around. The renovations you've made already are sufficient, but it's similar to wearing rat fur instead of mink." His insult singed me, but I knew that it was what he'd intended. Nothing I did was ever good enough for him. "Why are you so attached to this place, Alexandra?" I knew that he didn't mean the Talon. He meant Smallville. My jaw was squared in preparation for the surge of anger that was sure to come. "Oh, yes. Your little boy toy. Clark." I hated the way my father said his name. His lip curled with displeasure.

"I thought we agreed that you would leave me and Clark alone, Dad." I tried to keep the weariness out of my voice. I sat down in one of the comfortable chairs that I had ordered for the Talon's new design. It was a mistake. When my father stood over me, it was clear that he had the advantage. I had to look up to him. I made sure that my posture was completely defiant, like a snake coiled and ready to spring. I hated these goddamned staring matches. My father's amber-toned eyes almost looked red in the sunlight. I wasn't in the mood to guess at what he had planned this time.

"I'm not bothering you. I'm simply here to make you an offer." I glared at him with suspicion clear in my eyes. For every offer Lionel made, there were strings attached that benefited him. "If you come back to Metropolis, you can be Special Advisor to the Chairman. That's second-in-command at Luthorcorp, in case you've forgotten." There was something in his voice that I didn't trust. Did I detect a hint of pride? "I can admit when I've been beaten at my own game. The plant is turning out profits at an incredible rate, and it's all due to your management. You've grown." I knew that there was a "but" coming and refrained from laughing when there was one. "But don't fool yourself. You can't live in this hick town forever as a farmer's wife. Your craving for excellence will eventually overcome your supposed love for him, and you'll hurt him sooner or later. Would you rather come crawling back to me or be welcomed with open arms?"

Damn. He hit weak point after weak point until I was actually considering it. A part of me screamed that it was completely unfair to Clark for even _thinking _of accepting this, but what he said was true. Even through all the shit he'd done to me, I still yearned for his love and acceptance. The compliment about the plant melted through my defenses, and the offer was nigh irresistible. At any other point in my life, I would've drooled at the mere thought of being second-in-command. Not only that, but he'd hit on my fears about Clark and my life in Smallville. That dug at me, and so did the thought of hurting Clark. Would I really hurt him, sooner or later? Was it only a matter of time? I saw victory in his eyes. He'd gotten me thinking, and that was all he needed. His hand rested on my shoulder, and I flinched under his firm touch.

"Take some time to consider it." He leaned down to speak into my ear, and his hot breath puffed on my skin. "Don't be an idiot. Clark will never sever his roots. You need to break away from him before he drags you down with him. What would you do if you didn't manage the plant?" The threat was clearly implied, and I was never one to take my father's threats lightly. "What would you do with yourself then? Spend all day baking cookies for the men with Martha Kent?" It stung. He was kicking me while I was down, and the fiery attitude that usually conquered my fear of him was absent. "You're meant for greater things. Even your mother wouldn't have approved of this. You're giving up on having your own life." God, did he care? It was like my father to twist his words in order to make it sound like he was looking out for what was best for me, but he preyed on every uncertainty and insecurity that I had about life with the Kents. He patted my shoulder lightly before opening the door and leaving me alone.

I looked at my hands and was surprised to see that I was shaking. Was he right? I didn't matter anymore. I had to think of my unborn child, who would certainly not survive Lionel's job offer. How could I look Clark in the eye after that? How could I betray him like that? I would be breaking his heart and ensuring his hatred towards me. Jor-El's warning rung in my thoughts. If I left, if this prophecy was true, I would be just like my father. I thought of life without Clark, and my soul ached. There was no way I could live without him. Not without going insane. And wasn't that the heart of it all? Stay with the last Kryptonian and live in peace. Leave him and drown in darkness. Drown in your sins. I had too many sins that would choke away my conscience and good will. After that...not even Clark could save me.

I had to stay strong. I had to be the person that Clark was meant to be with, the strong woman that could overcome anything. I ran my fingers over my stomach and sighed. How could I deny a child, an innocent creature who had yet to enter this world, his or her life and make it suffer for my sins? Lionel was wrong. My mother would have told me to keep the baby and go back to the farm. To stay with the love of my life, because it would only come around once. I had one chance at this. My father's words were like silk and honey, but I had to remember that he wanted an heiress to the company. He didn't want me to live the life I deserved. He only wanted someone to be able to efficiently run the company when he was gone. The next time I spoke to my father, I would be saying goodbyes.

I would say goodbye to Metropolis, to my dreams of running Luthorcorp, and to a life without restrictions. But for Clark and my baby, it would all be worth it. Saying goodbye to Lionel was going to be the least difficult part.


	25. Choices

While the Kents took the boy to the hospital, Clark and I went up to the loft in the barn. I was starting to like the place a little more, even though I disapproved of the name. The Fortress of Solitude definitely sounded like something taken from the pages of a comic book. Maybe that was the appeal of it. Besides, the sweet smile on Clark's face convinced me to enjoy it as long as he was with me. He took a seat on the old couch, and I took a moment to stare at the empty space where his telescope used to be. I took a breath. A moment later, I was sitting next to him, because if we were positioned any other way, this discussion would quickly turn to sex. The heat of his thigh transferred to mine through the denim and was a comforting presence. I could sense tension in both of us, and if he was anything like me, he was chomping at the bit to get it out so that it would be _out_ instead of left to build up inside.

He rested his arm on the back of the chair but didn't touch my shoulder. He was nervous to touch me. The guilt in his turquoise eyes swam like a shark with its fin visible above the water waiting to strike. His curls were already mussed, but I had the distinct desire to run my fingers through them and mess them up even more. There were times in my youth where I would've killed for messy hair. The air in the room was so thick that I almost couldn't breathe. I could feel my lungs start to spasm for air that was readily available until his lips finally started to move and spill his secret. "Lana came over last night." Fuck. "She must've inhaled the same stuff that Dad did, because she was acting...different." That fucking little tramp. The anger shone in my eyes unbridled. I wanted him to see how upset it made me. He ducked his head in guilt.

Why had Jor-El given him all the kiss-sensing shit while I was left in the dark? Maybe it took humans longer to acclimate to the bond, or maybe it wasn't coming at all because of the fact that I was a human. Then again, he didn't know what happened between me and Jonathan in the barn. Maybe he had to be close for it to work. That theory was thrown out immediately. He'd been at school that morning, and he couldn't sense it. But when Lana kissed me in Nell's flower shop, he sensed that all the way from the barn. Damn unpredictable extraterrestrials. If I had any hair, I would be pulling it out already. "She was horny. And you've had a crush on her since you were, like, eight. I'm not fucking stupid, Clark." The snarl had come unbidden. It must've been from talking to my father this morning. I rubbed my forehead gently to ease the stress.

"No, Lex. I swear, she just kissed me. I started feeling sick, but she wasn't wearing her necklace, so I pushed her away. I misjudged my strength, and she fell and hit her head. I ran her to the hospital. That was all that happened. I'm sorry," he babbled, and the moisture shining in those eyes told me that he was completely genuine in his statement. I pushed aside my raging jealousy and looked at the facts instead of listening to my emotions. Flower-toxin-infected Lana would've been on Clark before he knew what was happening. He was too dense to pick up signals. He was innocent. Plus, I had kissed Lana, so maybe this was fate reaching in and making the scales even. "Are you mad at me?" His doe eyes melted whatever resistance left in me, and I pressed my lips to his in a soft kiss. Just a brush of the lips, a sign of forgiveness.

"Of course not. God." I let out a disbelieving laugh. "I thought it was going to be worse than that." I reached for his hand and took it in mine. His big hands dwarfed mine, but I loved tracing the curves of his palm. No matter how much farm work these hands suffered, they would never wear calluses. "Can I tell you what happened with your dad?" Months ago, I would've done anything to hide it from him. But my soul was connected to his, and anything that came between them was a nuisance. A nod of his head let me know that it was okay. "Your mom went and got him from the hospital, and after she dropped him off, she went into town. She asked me to look after him and make sure that he was fully recovered from the crash. When he came in, I noticed that he was different." That seemed to be the key word in avoidance today.

Asthma that had been long gone was trying to make a comeback, but I wasn't in the mood for it. I closed my eyes and reached for the calm center that eluded me. Clark's hand on my thigh helped. I opened my eyes when I felt his forehead against mine, and his eyes were staring right back into mine and offering full support. "It's okay," he whispered. He was so close that I could feel the heat of his breath on my lips, but I wasn't in the mood to appreciate that either. The feeling of weakness gnawed at my insides when I felt hot tears slip down my cheeks. He was the only one who could make me lose control with a glance. It had been that way from the start. I drew in a deep breath that satisfied my aching lungs. Determination alone made me plunge head-first into the rest of the incident.

"He said that he had something to show me in the garage. I thought it was something mechanical, but I realized that something was wrong when he locked the door behind us. The barn doors were shut. He hit me and started talking about how I was manipulating you into staying with me." I wanted to cover my eyes, to shut out the world like a little girl and hope that it would all go away, but experience taught me to keep them open. Watch. I watched Clark's eyes cloud with anger, and it only intensified when I continued. "He kissed me, and I pretended like I was into it. I went to suck his dick--" Those words were especially hard to say. "--and bit him. I ran as fast as I could up here, grabbed your telescope, and hid behind the couch until he came up. He threatened to make it worse, and I hit him in the head. He wasn't waking up, so I put him in the back of my car with my gun at my side and drove him to SMC."

Clark's hands were on my cheeks, and his lips suddenly started spreading gentle kisses across my face. My lips, my eyelids, my nose, my forehead, and my chin were all targeted, and it only made me break out into uncontrollable tears. Hatred was easier to deal with than affection, and soon he was crooning words of comfort as I was pulled into his lap. His hands rubbed my back, and I hid my face in the crook of his neck and let out what I couldn't with anyone else. "It's okay. It wasn't your fault." It was like he could read my mind. Maybe he could by now. Eventually, his touch started to soothe the angry grief inside at being violated by _another _father figure. His hands disappeared for a moment and reappeared with tissues. I blew my nose. There was an unsettling peace in me. "Did you two talk about it this morning?"

"Yeah." I hated that my face felt puffy after crying so much, but I knew that it would only get better if I could calm down. Surprisingly, it wasn't really hard. Being in Clark's lap helped a lot, because the warmth of his body covered the length of mine. His over-warm body was addictive, even though the weather wasn't that bad. I had a feeling I would crave that heat in hundred-degree weather, no matter how hot I was. "He couldn't remember anything, but I left marks. He kind of guessed what happened, and I told him that it wasn't really his fault. It's not anything I haven't been through before--" Clark winced. "--and that toxin made him like that. I already forgave him." Was I going soft? Maybe. But here, in this small town, I had a family. It was better than just having Lionel for family in Metropolis, and it was the only real one I had left. I was afraid that I might do something wrong and drive them all away.

His nose brushed mine in a cute intimate gesture as his eyes looked into mine. "I'm so proud of you, Lex. I'm always surprised by how strong you are." When I eyed him dubiously, he continued. "I mean, I can lift tractors and stuff, but I can't even handle a fight with my friends. You've been living with Lionel your whole life." I snorted softly. That was definitely an accomplishment. There had been times when Lionel had showered me with affection, when I had hair like my mother's, but that all ended when Julian died and then my mother went soon after. When he was stuck with me, it turned into a ruler training his heiress. I knew that he would trade me in if he could and leave the company in better hands. "What happened with him this morning? He didn't do anything, did he?" Clark's mood quickly switched from relaxed to protective.

"No." I let out a small, humorless laugh. "He offered me second-in-command at Luthorcorp." The soul-cleansing wasn't done, and I wouldn't leave until it was. Clark's eyes widened with surprise, because never had my father so blatantly dangled a massive reward in front of me. He was desperate to have me away from this life. "The things he said, they were the negative things that I've been thinking all this time, like what if I hurt you? What if it didn't work? It was everything I wanted." I could see the fear in his eyes. The way he suddenly tensed up told me that he thought I took his offer. "He told me to think about it, and I did. I know that if I left you now, there would be a hole in me that nothing could ever fill. I would never, ever be whole without you, Clark." Relief flooded his features, and he let out a breathy chuckle.

"You scared me. You know, I would say that if it would make you happy, I wouldn't mind if you went back to Metropolis, but I would." I could feel his protectiveness like a shield. "There's no way I'm losing you to Lionel Luthor." I laughed. "I couldn't let you go if I tried, and I know that we can be happy together. If you miss Metropolis, we can go there and come back to Smallville on weekends. I would do that for you." He was serious. There was no levity in his features, no sarcasm in his voice. Truth. "But I won't live without you." It was more of a command than I would've ever expected from him, of all people, but to me, it was a compliment. His fingers kneaded the sides of my waist. God. He was going to be such a good father. I knew that our baby would definitely pick him as the favorite, but I didn't mind being the bad guy.

"I like it here. I would never take this baby away from your mother. I think your dad would pull the shotgun on me if I did." I felt a smile spread my lips. "I know what this child means to her. She wants to be a grandma, and I'm not about to deprive her of that." She wants to be a mother, I wanted to say, but I didn't. If Clark wasn't enough for her, that woman was crazy. After all, the boy did eat four times what a normal kid his age did. I couldn't imagine what a five-year-old alien was like, but he must've been hyperactive, and with all that strength, it was a wonder he hadn't broken everything in the house ten times over. "I need someone to help me if our baby develops superpowers," I teased.

"I think you're right. She gets so excited over it. She lights up every time we talk about it." So did Clark. I probably did, too. It was just a natural reaction that I never knew I had, and this whole mothering instinct was definitely a new feeling. I liked it. It was the feeling that I would protect my baby no matter what and that nothing could touch me. Anything bad that happened would be cancelled out by the birth of my baby. The knowledge that I was going to be a mother was both frightening and exhilarating, like jumping off a cliff with a parachute. "I know Jor-El said that it would be Kryptonian, but I hope it doesn't turn into super-baby," he said with a grin. I felt my features mimic his when I thought of a cooing child in diapers flying around the house and throwing breakable things into the wall.

"If it does, you and Jor-El can be its parents. I'll just stand by and watch." He let out a low growl and closed the distance between us to bite at my lip. "I wasn't serious," I chided before he pulled me into a full-blown kiss. My lips easily parted for his tongue, like it was an extension of my body and it belonged in my mouth, and I felt myself moan at the satisfaction of finally getting a real kiss. It wasn't like we hadn't kissed all morning, but it damn sure felt like it. Maybe after all the stress of today, after telling him about Jonathan and Lionel, I needed him more than I thought. I whimpered when he pulled back and turned his head, but then I heard the rumble of an engine. Damnit. I hadn't gotten my fill of Clark, but there was no way I was making out with him in front of his parents. When I saw the truck pull up to the open barn door, I saw that the boy from this morning was between them.

I let out a sigh and climbed off of his lap. "Teenagers." Clark gave me a playful smile and led the way down the stairs. All parties were out of the truck when we arrived at the barn door, and I hung back while Clark took the initiative. I got a better look at the kid. He looked a little younger than I had previously thought, maybe eleven, and he was definitely underweight. His loose-fitting clothes almost covered it to anyone who wasn't looking for it. His jacket swamped him to the point where I could only see his fingers poking out of the sleeves, but his shoes were new. They were Nikes that sold for a few hundred dollars in contrast to the rest of his clothing. Something was up. Suddenly, the kid's dark eyes were on me, and I was surprised by their piercing quality. A flash of my father's face when he knew something I didn't reminded me of the look in this kid's eyes.

"Hey, what happened?" Clark asked. His eyes went to the boy and immediately brightened. I was rudely reminded of the contrast between me and Clark. He seemed to love children and appeared approachable, and I was the exact opposite. Standoffish and calculating. Kids usually hated me, and I didn't expect this time to be any different. Jonathan had his hand on the boy's shoulder, but Martha seemed more excited. Her body was radiating energy, and her eyes were bright with fervor. Another child in the house, I mused. She really did love to take in children, whether they were aliens from another planet or strays that appeared in the fields. The kid's eyes were on me again, and he seemed to stare at me with anxious disbelief. He kept it well-hidden, but years of deciphering Lionel's expressions taught me to be the best.

"We took him to the hospital, and the doctors checked him over. His family hasn't come looking for him yet, and he doesn't remember anything." Interesting. Amnesia was extremely rare. Maybe the kid just wanted to forget. I could definitely sympathize with that, but wasn't that too adult of an emotion for a kid this age? I couldn't remember how I felt when I was eleven. I still had my mother then, and Lionel hadn't turned into a jackass yet. Maybe I'd been happy. "They said that the only place they had for him to stay was in a juvenile prison cell, and we couldn't have that. So Ryan's staying with us," Martha finished brightly with a smile. It made her look younger when her face was all lit up like that, and I hoped that there would be more moments like that in the future when I had my baby.

Clark crouched down and brought himself down to the kid's height. "Hi, Ryan. I'm Clark. Do you want to come inside? We'll warm up some of Mom's breakfast. She's the best cook in the county." God, how could he be so _easy _with him? I was immediately jealous, but the kid probably needed someone like Clark right now. I didn't mind fading into the background. Maybe I wouldn't traumatize the poor kid by trying to be nice to him. Ryan appeared to be distrustful of Clark at first glance, but he soon smiled and nodded. He took Clark's hand and followed him into the house while I loitered outside with Jonathan and Martha. I waited until I heard the screen door shut and then asked my question.

"Did they find any markings on his body?" He was a classic case of abuse. Introverted and cautious. Plus, he acted older than he was. The suspicion in his eyes was too old for a kid his age unless he'd been through some kind of trauma. But what did I know? I hadn't been around any normal kids for a long time. Probably since I was one myself. My father was just like me in the fact that he didn't like children, but he didn't like them because of their grubby little fingers and their impolite nature. I simply didn't know how to socialize with them. I remembered all the parties my father held, and none of them included children. I wasn't allowed to attend until I was fifteen, and even then, it was a short appearance. I'd probably been stoned out of my mind at the time.

"Yes," Jonathan replied with his hands in his pockets. "They said that he'd been beaten and that he was probably faking the amnesia." Or locking away traumatic memories. I wasn't sure yet. Martha headed for the door, and Jonathan's hand rested on my back between my shoulder blades. "Come on. Let's go inside." I wasn't comfortable with his touch yet, but that would probably fade again as I grew used to it. When we entered the living room, the kid was reading a comic book while Clark heated up his food. I couldn't help but eavesdrop because of the familiar illustration style, and when he turned the page, it hit me.

"Warrior Angel, right?" He glanced up from the book and almost immediately returned his gaze to it to avoid my eyes. I knew I shouldn't have tried to talk to him. I hated the awkward feeling that I had right now. "I used to read it all the time." Before Lionel found my stash and went into a rage. He didn't throw them all away. To ensure that I would not ever read them again, he burned them in the fireplace. Comic books weren't for girls, and no daughter of his could be caught doing something so masculine. In boarding school, I had collected issues when I could, but he had someone go through my room every week who dug them out and disposed of them. I had a shelf full of laminated first-editions at the Talon to spite him.

"Girls aren't supposed to read comics," he retorted. I hid the shock that I felt, but the little jolt that went through my chest hit me full-force. "They aren't supposed to be bald, either." Ouch. It wasn't like I hadn't heard that before, but it'd been a while. Hearing it from this kid was enough to surprise me, at least. I shouldn't have let my guard down. I fought not to tuck my hands in my pockets, which would be showing weakness, and instead decided whether to respond. If the kid thought he was adult enough to insult someone, maybe he was adult enough to take it.

"Nice shoes." It was enough. I was careful to be vague and not sound petty, but at the same time, he would know what I meant. He stared up at me, and there was anger in his eyes. I recognized the heat of its intensity as a wounded animal stuck in a room. Clark brought in a fresh plate of pancakes, and I took that as my cue to leave. "I'm going to go to the Talon." They were doing the final renovations today, but I would live. My stereo could probably overpower any construction, and that jacuzzi was looking pretty tempting right now. I could see the hurt look in Clark's eyes, as if I just wasn't realizing how great of a kid Ryan was, and that only irritated me more. "I'll be back later." I left without a kiss, and my engine roared as I drove out of the driveway. Damn kid. Two sentences, and he'd riled me. It was like he knew which spots to hit, and how the hell had he picked up on what I was thinking like that? It had to be some kind of coincidence.

My phone rang. I was careful to keep my eyes on the road as I flipped it open and said my last name into the phone. When all I heard was crackling silence, I was ready to hang up, but then I heard my father's voice purr his response and break the silence. "Hello, Lex. Have you considered our arrangement?" _Our _arrangement, like it was something that we both thought of and not his will. I hated how he did that, but it was a useful technique for dealing with other people. There were all kinds of things that Dad had taught me. Kick your opponent while he's down and throw dirt in his eyes when you get the chance. Cheat, lie, and steal, but don't get caught doing it.

"I have." The temptation to loiter over the decision a little more was something ingrained in me that I didn't understand. It would make my father salivate a little, but it would also make him think that I was capable of leaving Clark. "I'm not taking it, Dad." Silence over the other end. It wasn't the response he expected. "I'm going to live in Smallville with Clark and have my baby here. I'm not going to change my mind." My heart quickened its beat as I said the words matter-of-factly. I had done plenty to defy my father, but this was long-term. I was cutting the strings, and I would have nowhere to go if things didn't work out between me and Clark. It was a risk I was willing to take.

"You're making a mistake," he growled, and I could picture his hands tightening into fists. It was better to do this over the phone so that he couldn't hit me. I was watching the road, but my interest in this conversation was keeping all my attention on my father's words. "I raised you alone since you were thirteen years old, and this is how you repay me? Perhaps I should've expected this. You were always _defective_." It wasn't the first painful statement of the day, and it probably wouldn't be the last. "You can forget about running the plant. As of right now, you're fired."

I swallowed hard, and even though there were tears in my eyes, I kept my voice calm and even. "You can have everything you ever wanted. You can run Luthorcorp forever. You don't have to deal with my constant rebellion. And you'll have no one, because you're a bitter, heartless bastard." I wanted to bite my lip to keep the words inside, but they tumbled out in my anger. I pulled into my parking space at the Talon and turned the car off, but I didn't go outside. I wasn't ready to be out in the open yet. Maybe my father would take out a contract on my life. He would hire an assassin instead of doing it himself.

"Good luck with finding a job. Your mother's trust fund isn't nearly enough to sustain you _and _the brat in your stomach. Don't come crawling back to me if you need money." The dial tone sounded, and I flipped the phone shut. I was so angry that I was shaking, and I slammed the phone against the steering wheel in a fit of rage. Before I could do any more damage, I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the headrest. Took a breath. I stayed that way until I could control my temper. At least I wouldn't ever have to introduce the baby to its shitty grandfather. I was still seeing red from the conversation, but I got out of the car and went into my apartment through the back. There were sounds of construction in the other room, and there was the faint smell of paint, but it wasn't all that strong. I could deal with it. Hell, I wouldn't complain if I got high off the fumes at this point.

I had broken the damn phone. I would have to get a new one soon, but I wasn't doing anything right now. I ignored the flashing red of the phone's answering machine and uncovered the jacuzzi. I started it up, waited for it to get warm, undressed myself, and slipped into the hot water. I could feel the tension melt out of me, and it was replaced by mutual feelings of sadness and tranquility. I was uprooting my life and trading it for something that was still uncertain, and I hated it. But it wasn't about me anymore. It was about Clark and the baby. I could manage this place with Lana, but it would take a long time for the place to start turning a profit. Until then, I could live on my mother's money. If it got really bad, I would start selling cars. Each of those was probably worth two years' salary of the highest-paid resident of Smallville.

I would survive, because that was what I did. Despite all the shit hitting the fan, I could work it out, because I was a Luthor. My father had unknowingly given me an advantage in this whole mess. He trained me to survive in the face of adversity and to be self-reliant. Clark was right. I was going to be one hell of a mother. I would give my child advantages, yes, but they would be nothing like Lionel's little life lessons. All I needed was love.


	26. Wanted

**Author's Note: **Sorry it takes me so long to update, but college has made me extremely busy. I try to update all my stories evenly, so it takes me a bit to get back to the same one. Thanks for your support, guys! Please review!

The longer Ryan stayed with the Kents, the more unwelcome I felt at the farm. Child Protective Services had sent out his picture to numerous agencies so that it was displayed everywhere in the hopes that his family would be able to find him. In the week they advertised him across the country, he was allowed to stay with the Kents. They were happy to have him. Clark had been spending all of his time at the farm supposedly babysitting the stray, but I knew that Martha and Jonathan spent all the time they could with him. He gathered rave reviews for making them breakfast in the morning and being an all-around perfect kid. It wasn't like I didn't understand his situation, but the boy was trying a little too hard to fit in with the family. It made me suspicious. When I decided to spend time with Clark earlier in the week, Ryan had deliberately stolen him away with a furtive glare at me.

It wasn't jealousy. I didn't hate Ryan because he took Clark away from me. I was happy that Clark finally had someone else to brighten his day, and I knew what it was like to want a little brother. This kid wasn't normal. He was smarter than he appeared. His dodging reminded me of Clark when I didn't know his secret, where the boy pretended to be dumber than he was in the effort to take the pressure off of him. I tried to do some digging, but the list of missing children with the name Ryan was far too long. I had nothing to go on except my own intuition, but it had never failed me before. Ryan had something to hide, and if he was staying with the Kents, I wanted to find out what it was. It was hard to be in danger when Clark was a super-powered alien, but I was sure that they would manage if this kid really was a threat. Smallville wasn't a place to allow something like that to fester until someone got hurt.

At least the Talon was finished. I was kept busy the entire week managing the opening, which was attended by most of Smallville High. Lana's charming offer meant that most of them were men, but they'd brought their girlfriends. I didn't mind. Every customer in there was a blessing. It was that thought that kept a smile on my face the entire night while I mixed and served coffee. There was no lack of confused glances about both my hair and my occupation. All of a sudden, Lionel Luthor's daughter was working in a newly restored coffee shop. I understood their confusion, but luckily there were no embarrassing questions. The kids didn't care enough to ask. They just enjoyed the loud music and the ambiance. It was a place where they could hang out and gossip. I knew from the compliments that they were going to be back. I'd received recipes from some of the premier coffee makers in the world, and there was no shortage of exotic flavors. All in all, about four hundred people showed up through the night. I would have to stay open late to make extra profit, but I was definitely up for it. By the end of the night, the till was four thousand.

Lana was more of a help than I thought she would be. She had things that I didn't, including a solid friendship with most of the town. I could smile all I wanted, but they still liked her better than me, which suited me just fine. She did most of the cleaning up while I transferred most of the money from the bag by the cash register to my personal safe in my bedroom. Since Ryan's appearance, Clark had installed deadbolts on the back and front doors as well as the doors connecting the Talon to my apartment. I appreciated the gesture, but I knew that it was a way for him to stop feeling guilty about spending more time with Ryan than with me. I tried to push thoughts of the stray from my mind as I shut and locked the safe. I only had one more task to take care of before the night was finally over. Sending Lana home would probably be the easiest part of my day. When I entered the Talon again, I surveyed the tables. They were clean, and the seats were back in their proper places after their upheaval at the hands of Smallville's football team. Lana was counting the money in the cash register when I approached her.

It was three in the morning. We were the hot spot for the kids who couldn't catch a ride into Metropolis to go to a club. If we made this much every Friday night, we would be in the black within months. Breaking even sounded like a good idea to me after all the heart and effort I put into this place. Lana's smile wasn't as bright as usual, but I could sense her exhaustion just as well as I felt mine. Her glossy hair was pulled back into a functional ponytail. We were both wearing the dark purple shirts with our insignia on it with black pants. "How are you feeling?" I asked quietly. I didn't want to break her concentration, but she was almost done counting anyway. Her pretty eyes looked worn when she glanced up at me. I didn't blame her. "You did a great job advertising this place. I'm impressed." After all, how could a sixteen-year-old girl be expected to know how to advertise a business? Again, I'd underestimated her. She was an intelligent girl.

"There's two-hundred in here," she said proudly as she handed me the money. "I feel great. Tired, but great." She flashed a smile that was bright this time, and it made me forget my earlier feelings of hatred towards her. When I complimented her, her cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink. "Thank you. I tried really hard. I love what you've done with this place." Her eyes glistened with moisture, and I was smart enough to know that she was about to cry. To distract her, I counted out five twenties and held them out to her. "Oh, no, I can't take that much." She waved away the money, but I was definitely known for my persistence.

"Come on. You made this whole opening night a huge success. You deserve a little extra. Besides, you still have to put up flyers for movie night." She gave me a considering glance, and I couldn't help my mischievous smirk as I dangled the money from my hand. "In fact, if it were my choice, I would give you twice that for how much effort you've put into this place." Her eyes widened. My tactics worked as she took the money and tucked it into her pocket. I did the same with the rest of the money. I would probably end up putting it back into the register in the morning just so we had some change.

"You win." I could tell that she was secretly pleased about the amount of money, but she was surprisingly modest about it. "So, I didn't see Clark here tonight. Are you two doing alright?" She asked the question with real concern in her eyes. We didn't have the town on our side, but those who did like us hated when we fought. When Nell came in, she'd given me a knowing glance after seeing my serious expression throughout the night with Clark's absence. She'd been supportive of both of us. I would have to get used to Lana and her aunt being nosy now that I was working with Lana on a daily basis.

"I think we're okay." That answer said it all for me. Luthors weren't supposed to be uncertain about things like that. I picked up a rag and idly began scrubbing the counter. I had no idea that I'd picked up cleaning as a distraction technique from Martha. "I mean, I've been busy here, and he's been busy with Ryan. He's always wanted a little brother. He's trying to enjoy it while it lasts." The unsettling thought that crept into my mind questioned what would happen if they didn't find his parents. Would the Kents offer to keep him? Could they legally adopt him? There would be no escaping from that. I wasn't about to let that kid steal Clark from me permanently. "CPS is supposed to drop by tomorrow to pick him up." The naked truth was that I wanted him to go. I wanted to return to normal with the Kents.

"Well, why don't you have him bring the little guy here so I can meet him?" Ryan was local news, and Lana seemed like another one of those people who naturally loved children. Why didn't I have that kind of maternal instinct? It was something that I'd been living without for years, but I'd never noticed it until now. Now that I was going to have a child of my own, I was worried about what kind of mother I might be. My mother had been a great example, but she wasn't here to guide me. I could definitely rely on Martha, but I was so afraid that I wouldn't be able to connect with it. What if it came out and made me feel nothing? What if all I could see was just a crying brat? What if my father was right?

"Sure," I answered mutely. I snapped back into reality and forced myself to push back my personal problems until I was only wasting my own time. "Do you need a ride home?" Lana shook her head. I remembered her telling me that Nell had bought her a decent car. "Go home and get some sleep. You'll need it for tomorrow." We opened at twelve. I was used to strenuous work hours, but she wasn't. The flower shop wasn't open nearly this late. "Drive safe." She surprised me by pulling me into a hug, which I still hadn't gotten used to yet. She gave me a sweet smile before going out the door. I locked up behind her. The shades were drawn over the glass so that no one could see inside. I made sure that everything was in order before retreating to my apartment and locking those doors too. The first thing I did was send a text to Clark asking if he could bring Ryan over tomorrow for Lana. I knew that he would be sleeping, but it would be there for the morning.

I set my alarm and went to sleep shortly after my head hit the pillow. My dreams were the same as they'd been all week. They were dark and twisted. My father usually starred in them, and the first night, I could swear that I felt his touch. Tonight was worse. I woke up in the dream the same way. My wrists and ankles were attached to the posts of a bed with black silk sheets, and my skin was bare. Everything in the room was caste in shades of red. The sheen of the sheets resembled a dark pool of blood. Something with glowing eyes came out of the shadows. The dark figure was always my father, and his white teeth were unnaturally sharp. It took no time at all for him to go from standing at the foot of the bed to right on top of me, suffocating me. All the air in the room seemed to disappear all at once, and I found myself gasping for breath.

Before I could get any oxygen, his tongue was in my mouth while his hands had an iron grip on my wrists. I felt an echo of pain in reality, but I couldn't wake myself up. It was different this time. I knew I was dreaming, that I would wake up any second now, but the terror suppressed any notions of escape. I could vividly smell his cologne and feel the scratch of his beard on my chin. In a flash of motion, his mouth was gone from mine as he slashed into my face with unnaturally long fingernails. My cheek burned with the throbbing wounds, and I felt the heat of tears rushing down my cheeks. I saw movement from the corner of my eye, and I turned my head to see Clark in the shadows. I called his name, but no sound came from my throat. He watched my father's teeth sink into my neck with an indifferent expression in his eyes. I strained against my bonds when he turned and walked away, and then Lionel tore into my stomach and pulled the baby loose.

I shot awake with distinct aches in my body and slammed my hand on my alarm to turn it off. Damn. I had to check myself over to make sure it wasn't real, but I was shaking so badly that it was hard to grab my shirt and pull it up. There was nothing there but smooth skin and a small rise in the middle of my stomach. My heart wouldn't stop pounding, and the scent of cologne lingered in my nose. "Fuck." I tried to release the bundled-up tension, but it wasn't going away. I got in the shower anyway. The frightening, too-real dream made my skin feel unbearably hot. The cool water didn't help much. Once I got dressed, I made a doctor's appointment for Monday. It was time to get the baby checked out by someone who knew what they were doing instead of a teenager with x-ray vision. As soon as they knew my name, I was bumped up from two weeks to two days. I would have to leave Lana in charge of the Talon Monday afternoon to go to Metropolis, but that didn't bother me any. She was a trustworthy person now that I really knew her.

Since today was probably going to be a little slow, I wore a white blouse instead of the t-shirt I had made up. Besides, everyone had heard who owned the Talon, and there was no mistaking my bald head for anyone else. I was getting more comfortable with it and adapting like Luthors often had to. Clark had sent me a return text that simply stated "ok," and I shook my head. Was there any hope left for me? At least the kid was getting out of my life tonight. Clark might be forlorn for a while, but at least I wouldn't have to compete for his attention. I grabbed the money from my pocket and went into the main part of the Talon to stock the cash register. There was a variety of bills. I lifted the shades so that the sun shone in through the panes of glass and unlocked the door. While I was outside, I collected my mail, which included a brown package. There was no return address, and both my name and address were typed. I set aside the bills and letters from evangelical activists that told me I would burn in hell for dating a sixteen-year-old boy.

I was wary to open the package, but I had to open it eventually. I only hoped that it wasn't a bomb from my father. When I ripped the tape with a key and opened it, I dropped the box back on the counter and shrank back to the wall with my hand over my mouth in the hopes that I wouldn't throw up. In the light of day, I could see Mandi's blank eyes staring up at me. Her blue-tinted skin was pale and bloated, and her lips were parted in a last, desperate gasp for air. The stench was unbelievable. With that thought, I grabbed the box and took it outside to the dumpster. I didn't think twice as I placed the box in there and put a garbage bag over it. God. Was my father actually capable of cutting off my dead, psychotic ex-girlfriend's head and sending it to me? The shock value was undeniable. It was a warning. His way of saying that he knew I killed her. He wouldn't actually bring it to the police, but if I did anything else out of line, he would turn me in. I wasn't planning on it.

Still, the image that had been imprinted on my mind made my stomach wrench with nausea. I had killed her, yes, but she was trying to boil me alive. That had to be a classic case of self-defense. If I hadn't healed, I would've been dead with her. The severed head had done its job. I was sufficiently unsettled when I returned to the Talon and washed my hands. The smell was no longer in the shop, but I propped the door open anyways. It was a sunny day, and it wouldn't hurt anything to leave it open. I played card games on my laptop over the next two hours. A few customers filtered in and gave good reviews of the coffee, but it would take a little while for word-of-mouth to do its trick. All the while, my mind wandered to the Godfather-esque message that had undoubtedly come from my father. Mandi had been an object of my desire once. The severity of what was in the box made me think back to the time when her sickness was dormant. She'd been a beautiful brunette in a club with beautiful lips. All I'd wanted back then was to make her smile.

She'd been sitting with her boyfriend in the VIP section and looked utterly bored. Her body was slightly turned away from him on the couch. All I could think back then was that she had a great body. Her slim, toned legs were encased in skin-tight jeans. The black tank top she wore had been cropped just under her breasts so that her muscled abdomen was exposed along with a sparkling jewel in her navel. I wanted to feel her under me within seconds of seeing her. Her long, brown hair had been ironed straight and framed her pretty face perfectly. She had high cheekbones and beautiful dark eyes. Her full lips called to me, even though the guy sitting next to her was obviously her boyfriend. I could smell his cologne from here. He was the kind of guy that reeked of false bravado. He was talking to another couple across the table, but his eyes kept straying to the woman. Her short skirt kept riding up her legs. I had no doubt that he was a cheater.

It was fair to steal her if he deserved it. I'd waited in the shadows until she got up to get a drink. The ironic thing was that I'd started as the stalker and followed her down the steps. Her hair smelled of fresh flowers instead of burnt cinders. I bumped into her in the bar and asked her what she was drinking. I'd put it on my father's card. She knew who I was once she saw the name on the card. I had a reputation in these clubs, and she told me that she wasn't into girls. I remembered leaning into her, watching her lips quiver when I got near, and telling her that it wouldn't matter. I'd converted girls like her before. All it took was the sense of excitement and a little bit of skill.

Then she'd smiled. She was only pretty when she looked serious; she was beautiful when she smiled. I'd felt a pang in my chest, like my heart had stopped for a moment. She could've been the girl I fell in love with. If she wasn't just as paranoid as I was. Mine had been under control with medication. Hers was not. I remembered glancing over my shoulder a few weeks later and seeing her trying to blend in with the crowd behind me. She hadn't been beautiful anymore. She'd become frightening. My thoughts were interrupted by a tall man at the counter. I glanced up and smiled even though I was in a bad mood. "How can I help you?" My smile faded when he flashed a badge. He didn't keep the flip wallet open for long, but the image was imprinted in my memory. It was a badge from a town police force in Ohio. What was he doing in Kansas?

He had a pointed jaw with a dimple in his chin and thick eyebrows. His face was weathered, and his hair was brown and curly. He wore a khaki trench coat that was ripped off from bad detective movies. I immediately knew that this guy wasn't a police officer. I'd seen and been arrested by enough of them to know that detectives liked to remain subtle. This guy was anything but. He was trying too hard to look like something he wasn't. "I'm private detective Gibson Burch. I've talked to all the shopkeepers in the area, and I was wondering if you've seen this boy. His name is Ryan." He slid a black-and-white printout across the counter, and I pretended to examine it closely. It was Ryan, all right. But this Burch guy wasn't on the level. I knew that wasn't his real name, either. The name on the license that accompanied the badge was James Gibson.

I feigned total innocence and shook my head. "Only in the paper. They said he was in the hospital." There had been an article run in the front page of the _Ledger_. If I hadn't mentioned something about it, it would've seemed suspicious. "Poor boy. Did they finally manage to find his family?" I could see that his chestnut-colored eyes looked speculative. He was trying to decide if I was being honest or not. I kept my face totally blank and pretended that I was just another dumb local. He was sharper than the average man, but he was definitely no detective. A detective would've done his research before coming. He would've known exactly who I was. Only outsiders didn't know who I was without knowing that my father was Lionel Luthor.

"Yes, ma'am. That's why it's important for us to find out where he is. The hospital couldn't release any information." It might've worked on someone else, but I was a Luthor. I didn't submit to intensive questioning under pressure without my lawyer, much less some shady guy asking questions about a boy who had been practically adopted by my new family. I'd learned at a very young age to keep my mouth shut around cops so that my father could get me out of whatever trouble I was in. This guy didn't come close to Metropolis PD. He seemed to be satisfied with my evident lack of knowledge, because he started to write down a phone number on the flyer. He tore it off the bottom corner of the page. "This is my cell phone number. If you find anything out, give it a call."

Mistake number two. Any credible detective would have a card with all their information printed on it. It was some unspoken rule that once you got a cool job, you got a thousand cards printed up to look professional. I nodded again and smiled. "I'll be sure to let you know, sir." He seemed amicable enough, but I was nowhere near fooled. I was glad that Lana wasn't in yet. She would've given away the game. I put the number in my pocket for later use, and the guy exited the Talon. Immediately after he was out of sight, I went on my laptop to the nearest criminal database and typed in the name. James Gibson. A mug shot popped up with the same man's face, and I read down the long list of things they'd charged him with. Aggravated assault, petty thievery, and impersonating a federal officer. I looked at known associates and found out something chilling. His son's name was Ryan James. The kid's mother was long dead, but he'd married again soon after to another woman with a rap sheet just as long as his.

I felt a sudden need to protect Ryan as much as I could. He didn't have anyone else besides the Kents. If they took him back to his father, he would be exposed to a life that was almost as bad as mine had been. Why would you want a kid when you were into robbery? Maybe Ryan was their distraction. Their hook. I couldn't figure it out. I picked up my cell phone and dialed Clark's number. I didn't want Ryan in town in case Gibson spotted him. I heard Clark's standard greeting. "Clark, I need you to stay home. I'll explain everything when I get there." After hearing Clark's confirmation, I shut my laptop and dialed Lana's phone this time. When I asked her to come early, she jumped at the opportunity to impress me. It only took her five minutes to arrive, but those five minutes were long. Even longer was the drive home in the Mercedes. I was jumpy. I'd told Lana not to tell anyone anything about Ryan, but I had doubts about her ability to lie.

When I got to the farm, Ryan and Clark were in the loft. I stood at the top of the stairs, unsure of what to say until I saw Ryan's face. His eyes held plain, unabashed fear in them. How did he know? As soon as I saw the look on his face, I knew that there was no way I would allow that asshole to get his hands on him. Everything clicked all at once. The signs of abuse, Ryan's feigned memory loss. He'd hoped that they would never find him. But something about him was important enough to this bastard that he'd been sniffing around. "What's going on?" Clark's question was almost a demand, and I felt faintly annoyed that he was talking to me like that. Then again, maybe he was more concerned about Ryan's safety than I now was.

"This guy came into the Talon looking for Ryan. He said he was a private detective, but his badge didn't match his driver's license. He's a criminal. He's also Ryan's father." The betrayal in the little boy's eyes was almost unbearable. It was as if he wanted Clark to think him perfect so that he would keep him. As a sign of silent support, Clark's arm rested over the back of the couch. His hand squeezed Ryan's shoulder gently. "His name is James Gibson. We need to keep Ryan as far away from him as possible. He's talking to everyone in town. We should warn your parents, too." Ryan curled in closer to Clark, but I could see the gratefulness in his eyes. All the manipulation had made me forget that he was just a kid. He was hiding from his father for a reason. Abuse didn't exactly create high self-esteem, so he was trying to appear as perfect as he could so the Kents would accept him. I could understand the appeal. I'd tried the same thing myself.

"He won't touch you." Clark's voice was strong enough to reassure the poor boy. Clark's sea-green eyes flickered back to me. "He didn't hurt you, did he?" I shook my head and sat down on the extra chair. It was a flimsy little thing, but we rarely needed it. "Ryan, we need to know what he did to you. We need to keep you safe." I could sense that Clark wanted to go to the police. Smallville's cops weren't the brightest, but they were still cops. Even then, they wouldn't offer nearly as much protection as Clark would. I could see the tension in every muscle beneath the boy's better-fitting clothes. The Kents had bought him everything he needed for the week. There was no way I could ever let him go back to the life he had before.

"I know you're hiding something." It was somewhat confrontational, and I got two glares for it. "Gibson doesn't seem like a concerned father, yet he's searching the county for you. If he didn't think you were valuable, he would've let you go without a second thought. But he's here. We need to know what he wants from you." I had refined Clark's quest for information to fit my own ideas, but now Clark was curious. I took a leap. "You know that Clark is special." His eyes glimmered with recognition. "I'm special, too. I can heal very fast. What makes you special, Ryan?" I could see that he was considering whether to tell me or to deny everything. If he didn't say anything, my dogged determination would overcome my politeness, and I would hound the boy for the answer. Clark might stop me, but it wouldn't stop me from finding out. The resolution in his eyes was a good one.

Now Clark's eyes were on Ryan. The little boy took a deep breath that seemed haggard and sighed. "I can hear what people are thinking." That wasn't a surprise. The kid had been reading my mind from the beginning. "Except you, Clark. But I know that you're not from here. I heard it in everyone else's thoughts. You can save me, like Warrior Angel. I don't want to go back." The stray made my heart ache. He was good at manipulating people, but I knew that today, he was being sincere. I took my eyes off of Ryan to look at Clark. Clark returned my gaze. From that moment on, until he was in equally safe hands, he was ours.


	27. Brothers

**Author's Note: **I am SO sorry. It's taken me ages to update! College is taking over my life, and I've been stressed out lately. Forgive me?

"Mom?" The maternal title still jarred me. It had been a month since Clark and I rescued Ryan from his thieving father and stepmother, and he had been calling me his mother ever since. Equally as heartening was Clark's new title of "Dad" and the elder Kents' christening as grandparents. The paperwork required to officially adopt Ryan went through with no problems despite fear of my father's interference. The only thing more frightening than my father's presence was his absence and the reasons behind it, but I tried not to think about it. Instead, I looked at what was in front of me. I had an eleven-year-old stray under my care who stole my heart within a month of his arrival and a three-month-old Kryptonian baby in my stomach that was growing at an unnerving rate. I could have sworn that I could feel the baby kicking already, even as Clark assured me that I was just being paranoid. "Mom!"

Ryan's impatient voice brought me out of my brief reverie and back to the present. I was sitting on the couch with my laptop in front of me, which displayed this month's profits from the Talon. They were high for a new business, but the funds weren't anywhere near enough to fill the deficit in my bank account. The Kents' business was slowing down, and though they currently refused my help, they would have to rely on me to make it through the season. That and the fiscal needs of a pre-teen boy were wearing on my already depleted stores. I turned my attention from the hopeless financial situation to the bright ray of sunshine Ryan had become since Clark had dispelled his father. James Gibson was in jail. The woman he was married to had been found shot outside of a bowling alley. It was a grim ending, but the boy didn't seem to mind. "Yes?"

His brown eyes changed with his mood, but he never failed to surprise me with the emotions in them. They were too adult for his age, and I wondered sometimes just how much information he'd taken from Martha, Jonathan, and me about the world around him. At the moment, they were dark and glittering, which meant that he was pensive. "Are you unhappy?" The question was a surprise. Even though I knew that Ryan was privy to all my thoughts, I still hadn't gotten used to it. Ryan once explained to me that I was the only one in the house who projected their thoughts so strongly that he couldn't ignore them. I hoped that he wouldn't have to suffer through my dark thoughts for much longer.

"Of course not." I couldn't outright lie to Ryan, but I could bend the truth in my thoughts just as easily as I could out loud. "I'm under a lot of stress with the Talon. I'm sorry if I distracted you." I offered him a worn smile. His eyes were now a little concerned. I couldn't feel him reading my mind, but I knew that he was doing it. "I wasn't expecting this much financial trouble when I moved here. I'm having a hard time adjusting." It was as much truth as he could glean from my thoughts. I could tell he appreciated it when he threw his arms around my neck and pressed close to my upper body. His freshly-cut hair smelled like grass and sunflowers, and the scent immediately calmed my erratic mind. He may not have had my blood, but he was my son. Clark and I were met with no luck when we had first uncovered Ryan's family tree. All of them were dead or missing. There was nowhere safer for a telepathic boy to be than living with a superhuman alien and his mate.

"It's okay," he whispered. When he pulled away from me, he simply sat down next to me within my reach. In the month that Martha had been feeding him, Ryan had put on enough weight so that he looked healthy instead of deathly ill, and there were no longer any dark circles beneath his eyes. "You think about your father a lot." I mentally winced at the mention of Lionel. We hadn't spoken about it, but he was right. I did obsess over Lionel. I had no idea what he was planning, and that was never a good idea. "Your father is bad too, like mine was." It was obvious from the intent in his eyes that he wanted me to answer, so I nodded. "Then you shouldn't feel guilty about him." He looked down at the fabric of the couch and picked at a tear in the kitschy fabric. "Dad said that what my real father did wasn't my fault. So it isn't yours either."

It wasn't like I could argue with his reasoning. Lionel had been a bastard before I was born, and it had only been exacerbated by the loss of my hair and then my mother. Somehow, Lionel had beaten it into me that everything he did wrong was my fault. Every person he wrongfully fired or imprisoned rested on my conscience instead of his. It was like I couldn't stop checking up on him. I was paranoid about him having his hand in my life, but I couldn't deny that I was curious about how he was reacting to my departure. "Thanks, baby." I gave him a real smile this time, because he was right. I was too blind to see it. The more I perseverated over Lionel's next move, the more control he had over my life. I was giving it to him. "Where's Dad?" It was unusual for Clark to let Ryan out of his sight unless he had to go to school or do chores, but he was free of both today.

"We were playing basketball, but he stopped. He said that someone was in trouble, and he had to go help. I don't think they made it," he admitted with a grim expression. It wasn't anything new to have Clark disappear on me, but Ryan wasn't used to it yet. I raised my hand to run my fingers through his new haircut, which was almost buzzed, and his eyes slipped closed from the gesture. I could tell that the little boy was trying to please all of us, and it was taxing him in the worst way. The only way for Ryan to learn that we would accept him no matter what was through the passage of time. Until then, he kept trying to impress all of us, as if he were afraid that we would get tired of him and decide to give him away.

"People die every day. He can't save them all." I said it as gently as I could. Ryan had a case of hero worship for his new father, and sometimes, he was so stubborn that he refused to believe that Clark could be hurt by anything. This time was different. He was passive and allowed the comment to pass by unrefuted. Clark was the only one whose mind Ryan couldn't read, yet the boy seemed to have a better understanding of him than any of us. Maybe it was because he'd been there when Clark knocked out his father and had seen something that I hadn't. A flash of indecision or the desire to kill were familiar to me but foreign to Clark. But Clark had taken Ryan under his wing, for better or worse, and facing the man who was supposed to take care of Ryan couldn't have been the easiest task.

"Can I come to the Talon with you tomorrow?" His bright eyes stared up at me with hope in them. How could I say no to that face? He immediately lapsed into a smile as he read my mind. It was a grin that was becoming a permanent fixture in his life. He bared all of his teeth and smiled as widely as possible. "Thanks, Mom." Ryan's head rested on my shoulder as he gently curled around me. The added warmth of another body wasn't unwelcome in the drafty house. Jonathan and Clark were going fishing tomorrow, and Martha had to go into town. He was stuck with me. I had a feeling that it wasn't just that, though. He really was coming to love me as a mother. As soon as the adoption was finalized, I would be his official mother. In the meantime, I waited with bated breath to find out if the results had been tampered with by my obstinate father.

I wrapped my arm around his neck and ran my fingers through his soft hair. He was falling asleep. He slept more than a normal child would, but I suspected he needed to store more energy because he was constantly using his telepathy. He couldn't turn it off. He also ate like a horse. It was only a third of what Clark normally ate, but Ryan wasn't fully grown yet. I was sure that when he reached Clark's age, Ryan would be able to eat just as much as the voracious Kryptonian. Of course, Martha had been encouraging me to eat far too much lately because of the pregnancy, and I couldn't refuse her. Not only was her cooking more exceptional than that of any person my father had ever hired, but her gentle, maternal suggestions pulled at my heart strings too much to ignore. I wondered if Ryan would ever look up to me like I looked up to her.

My mother had been just as gentle in a different way. She had to be quiet and subtle with her affections whenever Lionel was around. I had to treasure every secretive smile passed behind my father's back. I wasn't used to Martha's overt gestures of warmth, but each one made me want to feel more comfortable accepting them. I didn't want to disappoint her with hesitancy. I wanted her to know that I trusted her as much as I would my own mother. It was hard to do with Jonathan around. Our relationship had reached a chasm of tension that I couldn't overcome. He didn't want to make it seem like what he did was okay, so he maintained his distance. The awkwardness was my fault.

I was scared to death of being a mother. I seemed to be doing alright with Ryan, but babies seemed to sense anxiety, and I was full of it. My doctor in Metropolis told me that the baby was completely healthy and developing fantastically. Apparently, it didn't have any abnormal qualities. The ultrasound was pinned to the fridge with a plastic cow magnet for those of us who couldn't x-ray stomachs at will. Its large head seemed to be its only distinguishing feature, but I could swear I saw its little hands curled into fists. I recognized the size of the little feet that tended to kick me in my sleep, especially when I was having nightmares. Clark thought I was insane. Martha knew I wasn't. I had to have some kind of maternal instinct, didn't I? I couldn't wait for it to kick in.

Then again, I couldn't say that I was absolutely heartless. With Ryan's head on my shoulder and warm puffs of slow, deep breath tickling my neck, I could justify some kind of natural ability to mother a child. The baby would take over my heart just as easily as Ryan had. I still had reason to worry. As illogical as it was, I was jealous of Clark's instinctive tenderness. He was father of the year while I was only playing at being a mother. I would try my best. It was all that Clark would ask for from me. I had to stop holding myself to my father's impossible standards in everything I did. With expectations set so high, perfection was out of reach no matter what I did.

I barely heard the front door open and close. The screen door's hinges seemed to scream in protest every time I opened it, but Clark had mastered the technique of sneaking into the house without making a sound. I leaned my head against the back of the couch and smiled at him. He was hesitant to return it. When he did, it seemed like an illusion. There one moment and gone the next. Clark helped me maneuver my way from under Ryan and lay him down on the couch without waking him. Clark grabbed the gray blanket from the recliner and pulled it over our unofficial son. Ryan continued to sleep like a log with his mouth slightly open. It made him look more vulnerable.

I followed Clark up the stairs. There was more room in the loft's couch than on Clark's twin-sized mattress, but I was loathe to step foot in the barn as of late. Despite assurance that Jonathan wouldn't do it again, I still kept hold of the fear. I wanted my comforting words to Jonathan to be true. I wanted to forgive him. I wanted to be able to trust him again. But my body tensed up every time he walked in the room, and my heart pounded a little faster in his presence. I wouldn't stay at the farm alone anymore. If Jonathan noticed my antics, he didn't say anything.

Clark seemed to read my mind as he shut the door behind me. "Lie down." His voice was gentle, and my body automatically responded. I moved myself onto the bed and allowed my head to sink back into pillows that smelled like Essence of Clark. I couldn't describe the smell. It was sweet like honey but as strong as musk at the same time. A mere whiff was intoxicating. I barely noticed my eyes closing as Clark pressed his head to my stomach. While most women didn't gain much weight in their first three months, I looked like I had swallowed a balloon by accident and inflated it inside my stomach. He said he loved it. I could feel him relax as his hands slowly pushed my shirt up to bare my stomach. The blazing warmth of Clark's cheek returned to my skin. I reached down and ran my fingers through the silky mess of curls that desperately needed a trim.

"Are you okay?" After a pause, I continued my inquiry. "What's wrong?" There was no joy in his features. Only pure relaxation and exhaustion. His aqua eyes fluttered open and stared at me in a way that made the pit of my stomach tingle. He was looking at me like he didn't know just how much he had missed me. If I had any doubt left about Clark's love for me, this gaze would have evaporated any insecurities in a moment. The way he looked at me was familiar in Martha and Jonathan's interactions but had been absent in Lionel and my mother's. I felt utterly treasured and assured of my value to him. I was only a human and he a man from another planet, but somehow, he held a deep and primal need for me.

"An elderly woman died today. Her body was burned to ashes in her bed." There was something about the way he talked. As if he had just realized something prophetic and essential to his soul. I didn't speak. Only my fingers in his hair moved to further massage his scalp. His eyes were moist when they looked back up at me. "It reminded me of how fragile human life is. What if something happens to you and Ryan? What if I can't save you?" His voice faded to barely a whisper. It was then that I first realized how much of Clark's identity I had become. I was fully integrated into his life, and if we were ever torn apart, I doubted I could survive.

"We all have powers that people outside of Smallville could never dream of, Clark. Ryan can detect a threat coming before anyone else. He's smart enough to slip out of danger unnoticed. I've healed from having my skin burned down to the bone." I hated the fragility I felt at the mention of Mandi. Why couldn't I feel the cold indifference my father held toward his enemies? "You have more important things to worry about. Like going to the dance next month." He furrowed his brow at my suggestion. Martha had mentioned it to me in passing, and I made it my mission to make sure that he went. After all, he had to have some kind of a social life beyond me and the meteor freaks of Smallville.

"Why should I go to a stupid dance?" I could see Jonathan's stubbornness etched into his facial features. "I have more important things to do. Like taking care of you and Ryan." _And the baby_, I added mentally. I noticed that he was cutting off all ties to the outside world. Pete and Chloe hadn't visited since I'd moved in here. He was preparing for the long and difficult task of fatherhood. I couldn't help feeling guilty that I was taking away the rest of his youth. It was selfish to keep him all to myself. He needed some kind of support system beyond his family. He needed friends.

"Just because you have a family of your own now doesn't mean that you shouldn't have a life." His eyes were dubious. "Yes, you'll be busy, but you have an advantage over the rest of the world. You could do everything you need to in five minutes with your super speed and spend more time with your friends. When was the last time you talked to them?" I could tell that I had caught him. I knew Clark hadn't been speaking to his friends in school. He had other things on his mind. Lana told me that it had been months since she and Clark had spent time as friends together. She was under stress with Whitney, and it occurred to me that the orphaned girl didn't have a lot of friends despite her usually bubbly personality. I knew what it was like to feel alone in a crowd of people.

He pushed out a frustrated sigh. "It's been a while, but they know how to live without me. All they talk about is the gossip going around school, and most of it is about me." I hit the root of the problem without knowing it. I hadn't thought of the problems he would face from the jeering teenagers of Smallville High. His aqua eyes grew intensely dark for a moment. "I can't stand hearing the things they say about you. Pete keeps saying that you're just like your father, and Chloe's convinced that you're part of some evil plan to hurt me." I rolled my eyes. I knew that I wasn't exactly the most popular person in Smallville, not with my father's status and my relationship with a minor, but this was ridiculous.

"I understand that, but Lana's on our side. You can't spend some time with her?" It pained me to suggest it, but both Lana and Clark had been more than deserving of my trust lately. It wasn't right for me to come between their friendship. The one time they had kissed, it hadn't gone any further than that. Clark wouldn't let it. Besides, Lana had been under the influence of the same drug Jonathan inhaled. Clark chose that instant to slink onto the bed. There was no other word for it. It was too graceful to be called a crawl, and I was reminded of all those times Clark blamed his superhuman strength on clumsiness. He was careful not to put any weight on me or my stomach. His eyes were close enough to read every emotion in mine. I could sense his question before he asked it.

"Are you sure you're comfortable with that? I don't want you to become suspicious of us." How was I supposed to answer his question when his face was less than an inch from mine? His breath warmed my neck and made my skin prickle. His very presence was created to disarm me. How else could he have gotten closer than anyone else ever had? Those eyes were so patient and transient, green in one light and blue in another. His curls were made softer than the finest silk, and his skin seemed to shame the sun with its glow. His lips would have been feminine on anyone else, but they only made it easier to decipher his emotions and made him more tempting than before. I would've never dreamed that this would be the man I would fall in love with, nor did I ever count on being pregnant without getting an abortion.

"I trust you." That trust had been a hard thing to procure for Clark with our shaky start. The car crash had planted suspicion that bloomed in my mind as more and more evidence was collected about Clark's nature. But, looking at his sweet eyes and pretty face, how could I not believe every word that came from his mouth? I was lucky to have him, and I didn't want to lose him because of my own paranoia. His eyes searched my face for any sign of deception, and I remained open. I had nothing to hide. For once. With so much at stake, I couldn't keep it locked away anymore. I didn't want to. My father had always taught me that I couldn't rely on anyone but myself, but he was wrong. Having someone beside me was so much more comforting than being alone.

The proclamation had more affect on Clark than I thought it would. After evaluating my features and determining that I was telling the truth, he let out a sharp breath of disbelief. I understood. We had gone from one extreme to the other. I could tell that this meant the world to him. His lips pressed softly against mine to reassure me that he wasn't taking this in a bad way. I could tell that he wanted to deepen the kiss, but I ended it. I had the urge to tell him everything. I settled for one piece of history that no one else knew about except for me and my father. Those who were witness to it were long gone, including my mother.

"My mother had another child when I was eleven. His name was Julian." Clark's eyes widened with surprise. This wasn't common gossip. It wasn't even in the old newspapers. My father had paid everyone off to keep it a secret. Those he couldn't silence mysteriously disappeared or turned up dead. I could feel my eyes mist over as they stung with tears. "He was everything my father wanted. He had hair and a penis. It was the one time in my life that I could do whatever the hell I wanted, because Julian would be Dad's perfect heir." Clark's surprisingly uncalloused hand gently touched the skin of my scalp.

"What happened to him?" His voice was unusually rough, as if he were just as choked up with emotion as I was. Perhaps he was. Our souls were inexplicably linked, and we were growing ever closer. I could tell that the peak would come soon. Jor-El's definition of marriage would show itself in the near future. I couldn't imagine what Kryptonian custom we would have to perform and whether it had anything to do with Earth's tradition. I only knew that I was nearing the point that I couldn't live without Clark by my side. Clark's fingertips on my skin brought me back to the present.

"It didn't last long. One night, Julian cried for hours. My father could sleep through it, but I couldn't. I had my head under the pillow to try and block out his wailing, but it didn't work. Then, it suddenly stopped. I got up and went to his room to see my mother standing over the cradle. She was crying. She said that she was just trying to stop the crying. She held a pillow over his head until he suffocated. He was dead when I got there. My father discovered me there a few minutes later, when my mom was out of the room, and he accused me of killing Julian. I didn't tell him the truth about what happened." I could see the expression of rage on Lionel's face. I could feel the stinging slap and the pain of falling to the floor when he pushed me out of the way. It was crystal clear in my memory.

"Why?" I could hear the anger and the pain in Clark's voice. "He must have hated you for it. Why didn't you tell him the truth?" The wound in my heart was still fresh. I felt it tear open at the mere suggestion. Yes, I could have told him. I could have placed the blame on my mother. I would've had a better life. My father wouldn't have harbored so much anger toward me for so many years. He would have been more of a father and less of a dictator. It was the easy way out. I was lost in my reverie when Clark's thumb stroked my cheek.

"Because my mother would have been treated much worse. Think about it." I swallowed hard. It was still difficult to admit that my father was capable of such atrocities. "She was already on her deathbed. She was probably legally insane when she smothered Julian. He could've killed her in a moment, and no one would have known. I was the only heir he had left, so he had to live with me. He may have hated me for it, but at least I got to keep my mother for a little bit longer." The pang in my chest was uncomfortable. Memories always tended to have a negative effect on me. They were almost always bad. That was the shitty part about having Lionel Luthor for a father. Other kids thought I was lucky to be so privileged. I corrected them whenever possible.

"You were eleven. You shouldn't have had such a burden on your shoulders." I smiled sadly. Clark was so optimistic about life. Maybe it was our job to balance each other out. I didn't want to inflict any of my bad attitude on Clark, but I could use some of his optimism. Maybe the Kryptonians were like the Chinese and believed in the whole yin and yang concept. I was black, he was white. He was yielding, I was stubborn. Of course, it was supposed to be the woman who was weaker than the man, but Clark more than made up for it in physical strength. Plus, I had dated enough strong guys to know that strength was not attractive unless it was used in the right way.

"I was a Luthor. The worst he could do was hate me a little more and send me to more boarding schools. I was used to it by then. I stopped hoping that Lionel would spontaneously change into a loving father and started thinking realistically." I closed my eyes when he kissed my neck. It wasn't sexual in the least. It was a comforting gesture, and it was well appreciated. "When I saw Ryan, I thought he might be my little brother. That maybe Julian made it after all." I felt raw and vulnerable. There was no one I would do this for except Clark.

We spent the rest of the night in each other's arms. Maybe God had decided to send Ryan to us to fill the gap in my heart that Julian left.

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	28. Love and Pain

When Dominic Sanatori walked into the Talon, I felt like my father had placed a choke chain around my neck and jerked with all his force. All the muscles in my body were immediately tense before I could stop them. It hadn't always been that way. When I was young and rebellious, I would openly flirt with him. The secretive smiles and subtle touches were meant to incite Lionel. Everything I did then was meant to piss my father off. Judging by his choice of messenger, I had finally succeeded. My relationship with the older man had been dark with twists and turns in paths I didn't want to explore ever again. _Ryan, go in the back. _I knew that my adopted son was listening to my thoughts. I could see the distress and anger written on his face. This was what my father had been planning all along in his period of absence from my life.

The metaphorical breath had been knocked out of me. I didn't show him courtesy by standing up. Instead, I put my hand on Ryan's shoulder in a touch that told him to comply with my mental request. He didn't need to see or hear any of this, but I had no doubt he would be listening the entire time. At least he would be out of the room. His dark brown eyes glanced at me. They were as fierce and hard as Clark's would have been at that moment, but he did what I asked. I waited for the door to my apartment to close before I turned my eyes back to my father's right-hand man. He stared right back at me with an easy smirk on his face. He was as arrogant as ever. He was a few inches shorter than me, but he never failed to intimidate. His eyes held a red tint to the amber hue, which was accentuated by his reddish-blonde goatee and thinning hair.

If there hadn't been a counter between us, I might have punched him in the face just to wipe that smirk off of it. Instead, I remained relatively calm and half-focused on the computer. I wasn't an angry teenager anymore. I couldn't push him out of a limousine at forty miles per hour like I'd done a few years before. It was only because he was so close to my father that I hadn't been brought up on assault charges. I had plenty of those on my sealed juvenile record. His walk held the same cocky swagger, and he wore the same brand of expensive Armani suit. The shirt and tie underneath were both maroon in color. It made me think of blood. I wondered if he had chosen it intentionally to remind me of the more sadistic parts of his personality. If anyone could be Lionel's perfect heir, it would be Dominic. For some reason, my father had always chosen blood over business sense. Until now.

The only reason I could see for his visit was that my father wanted to dangle his new heir in front of my face hoping I would come back to Metropolis. It wouldn't work. The reminder of Dominic's backstabbing nature only served to make me glad that I had defied my father. The other option would be that Lionel was hoping that I would cheat on Clark. It hadn't worked with Mandi, and it definitely wasn't going to work with Dominic. If I had one defining Luthorian trait, it would be that I knew how to hold a grudge. Just like my father, Dominic could be charming when he wanted to be, but he was quick to show his true colors if something didn't go his way. He went for charming first, I noticed as he leaned his elbows on the counter and threw a glance at the written menu over my head.

"I never pictured you for a mother, Lexi." The old nickname irritated me. I had forgotten about it until it passed through his lips. It had been another attempt of my father's to feminize my nickname, and Dominic took every opportunity to kiss my father's ass. I wondered idly if they were fucking. It wasn't as far-fetched as it sounded. My father probably wouldn't do such a thing just because it would give Dominic a certain kind of power over him, like my mother had. She had tamed him, and he hated the thought of it happening again. Dominic's eyes dropped to my stomach, where the bulge in my shirts was becoming more obvious every day. "I never thought you'd allow someone to knock you up, let alone a teenaged boy." I detected a hint of jealousy in his voice hidden in the derision. If this was my father's best shot at getting me back, he had no chance.

"That's funny coming from a man in his thirties who practically worships another man he'll never have." When it came to pathetic infatuation, Dominic was the poster boy kissing Lionel's feet. I didn't correct his use of my former nickname. It would only let him know how much it bothered me, and he probably already had an inkling of that anyway. "You can go back to my father and tell him that this is getting old. His games aren't going to work." I knew that my father would work tirelessly to have me back. If there was a way to break me away from Clark, he would find it. He was fierce in his persistence. To assume that he would ever lie low would be dangerous.

There was a glint in Dominic's eyes. "Years ago, you would have been on your knees begging for me. I just had to come and see you domesticated for myself. Of course, it was never that hard to get you to submit." I stopped the flashback before it came. All it took was a deep breath and counting to ten in every language I knew. This was why Dominic was here. He was the only one to ever truly possess control over me, and Lionel hoped he could do the same again. Either that or he hoped that I would have a mental breakdown from the repressed memories. The latter option seemed possible if not probable. I had to center myself and send Dominic away as soon as possible.

I gave him a harsh smile and finally looked him in the eye. I was at odds with myself, so my body language didn't match my eyes and my words didn't match my lips. I could see the muddled confusion in Dominic's eyes and knew that my incongruity had the desired effect. "Well, here I am. You've seen it. I'm not leaving my fiancé or my son. I'm staying in Smallville. So go to your master like a good little dog and grovel." Beneath the counter, my grip on the marble was making my knuckles turn white. I could sense that Dominic was nowhere near finished, but at that moment, Ryan chose to come back into the shop. The relief I felt was palpable. Even though it meant that the boy had probably heard every thought that went through my mind, it also meant that I wouldn't have to deal with Dominic anymore.

"Mom, Lana's here. We told Grandma we'd be home for dinner, remember?" When Ryan looked at Dominic, his eyes were accusatory. Dominic didn't show Ryan the respect of looking at him. Instead, those amber eyes were examining me. He was likely determining whether he would have to persist in his investigation or do as I told him. He never did as he was told unless it was demanded by Lionel. I doubted that this was the last I'd seen of him. I closed up my laptop and put it in my bag with the rest of my things. I just wanted to get out the door and back home, where I felt the safest. And then Dominic grabbed me by the bicep. My throat tightened its airways once more, and this time, I couldn't withhold the memory. I was kneeling in a cold, dark place with a chain pulled tight around my neck.

His voice was in my ear both in the past and the present. "You wouldn't want to disappoint your father, would you?" There were flashes of things I never wanted to remember again, which had previously been locked away in the back of my mind. My father's business partners had all had their individual share of me. Dominic had been my father's enforcer. I hadn't known it then, but our supposedly private sessions of sadomasochism were a training ground for what my father wanted me to do. I had given complete control over me to Dominic, and he used it to his advantage down in the dark, windowless room in the lower levels. For Ryan's sake, I fought to bring myself back before the images got worse.

"Don't...you _dare _touch me." With the memories fresh in my mind, I glared at Dominic with all the hatred I felt for him. I could see a hint of a smirk on his lips. Contempt and disgust surged up inside me, and I threw my body into a punch. It landed above his cheek with a satisfying smack, and I could see blood trickling from his nose. He took his hands away from me to tend to his nose in shock, and Ryan pulled me out of the Talon before I could do anything more serious. I was blinded with rage, but I was able to make it to the driver's seat of the Mercedes without hurting anything.

"Oh my God, Mom, that was so cool!" Ryan crowed. It brought me back to my senses. Instead of the anger, it was fear that rose to the surface. I quickly started the car and peeled out of the parking lot. Luckily, downtown Smallville wasn't as busy as it usually was, and I didn't hit any cars or people on the way out. At least the drive home was along a straight road with hardly any cars. It gave me a chance to collect my thoughts and soothe my emotions. "It wasn't your fault. He knew what he was doing to you." It had escaped me that Ryan might have obtained some nasty images from Dominic's mind.

"What did you see, Ryan?" My voice was far too tense, and I didn't know how to make it relax again. Usually, I was an expert at hiding myself and deceiving others in the process, but that entire lesson had been unraveled with his touch. I glanced over at him for a microsecond to see his reaction to my question, and reflected in his eyes was the same darkness I often saw in myself. He had to know. A pang of guilt rang hollow in my chest. I wasn't equipped to handle this kind of thing. What kind of mother knows what to do when she has to explain to her adopted son that she was repeatedly abused?

"I saw enough." His voice was far too old for his years. I had to remember to tear my eyes away from him to focus on the road. The seconds seemed to stretch into hours with an uncomfortable silence that settled between us. "Does Dad know?" His question surprised me. Of course Clark didn't know. I had been keeping it from myself for all these years trying to forget it. But I could never forget what they had done to me. Ryan's eyes narrowed when he read my mind for the answer. "You should tell him. You can't keep it to yourself. It'll poison you." The ironic thing was that he was the only one who truly understood. He had been battered by his father and stepmother, and while physical abuse wasn't the same as sexual abuse, it was still a violation of trust. Who could you turn to when the person you were supposed to trust most betrayed you in the most private way possible?

"Thanks, honey." I meant it. My voice was soft. Ryan was so perceptive. I wasn't ashamed that he was so helpful to me. I was grateful. I needed help sometimes, and he was far too cute to get mad at anymore. Enough bad feelings had passed through us in the first week we spent together. It was time to heal. I wished that Clark and Jonathan would be home early, but they weren't. Still, Martha's warm meal made me feel a little less empty, and her brightness was enough to cheer both of us up. The father and son had gone out fishing, and the drive home was long. I was anxious for Clark to come home and to have him to myself.

I ended up alone in the loft. Ryan was watching a movie with Martha, and I snuck out under the cover of darkness to contemplate my mental state. I was unstable on the best of days as of late. Maybe I needed to go back on medication. The paranoia part was minimal; it was the anxiety and depression I had to deal with now. Sexual abuse was hard for anyone to overcome, but I had been abused for many years by many different men, including my own father. At least I knew that Clark would never hurt me. Not intentionally. It was the fear of the past that bothered me. There had been so much pain and anguish buried and repressed that when Dominic had spoken a few trigger words, it all came flooding back to me. I couldn't allow myself to be overpowered like that.

I shivered as I approached the open window. Back in those days, I would've noticed how easy it would've been to fall or jump, but right now, I was looking at the stars wondering, which one was Clark's home? Had whatever God out there chosen him specifically for me, to heal my repeatedly broken heart? That was selfish. After all, there were other people who benefited from Clark's presence. Martha and Jonathan were no doubt happier than they would've been without him. Smallville was all the better for his heroics. He was the light to fight against the dark, the sanity among all the madness, the steadiness to the chaos. I let out an abrupt sigh of emotion when I felt his arms, much warmer than human skin was, wrap around my waist.

"I missed you." Before I could stop them, the tears started to trickle down my cheeks. I was falling apart, but he was there to put me back together. Slowly, he guided me so that I would turn towards him and drew me into a deep, loving hug. He could sense something was wrong as easily as he could listen to the beat of my heart. This connection between us had grown natural and more powerful by the week. I felt his emotional strength run through me like the strong current of a soothing ocean in the random harshness of a storm. There was no scientific way to explain what was happening between us, but my instinct told me the basic theory: we were becoming so close that we were two parts of the same person.

"What's wrong? Something happened." It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact. I allowed myself to throw my arms around him and bury my face into his neck. His large hands rubbed my back in an attempt to calm the tense muscles there, and I gave a shudder so deep that it ran to the depths of my soul. "Lex? Come away from the window." When I didn't move, he picked me up and carried me over to the couch. He made a move to set me down, but I clung tighter to him. "Alright, alright," he conceded softly. He sat with me in his lap like a scared child, but he didn't complain. Clark didn't have a mean cell in his body. He was my strength and my weakness, and I loved him for being both.

"An associate of my father's came by the Talon." I felt a rush of anger in Clark. Somehow, I could feel exactly what he was feeling. If the exchange worked both ways, it was no wonder that he was so worried about me. "Dominic Sanatori. He's known me since I was a teenager. We were involved." A pang of jealousy. I knew that Clark wouldn't ever act on something as base as envy, and the fact that he felt that showed that he was only human. Emotionally, that is. "I thought my father didn't know, but it was all a set-up. I did things with him that I didn't do with anyone else. It was like he knew exactly how to control me. He inflicted pain during sex, and I liked it."

I could sense Clark trying to smother his emotions. It was then that I looked up into his eyes and faced the bare truth. It came stumbling out of Clark's mouth before he could stop it. It was a common occurrence with both of us; we couldn't seem to hold anything back anymore. "Like S and M?" I could see quiet confusion in his features and softly kissed a spot beneath his jaw. Then, I did something that I had never done before. It was scientifically impossible. I shouldn't have known how, but something inside me, maybe a trigger that Jor-El had placed there, did. I could feel the wall between our minds, and I took it down for temporary measures. It was confusing for a moment, because his thoughts were mine and mine were his, but I gradually found my footing and showed him what I wanted him to see.

_I was home for vacation from boarding school. I remembered the first moment I saw Dominic. His hair wasn't thinning then, but it was cut close to his head to look professional. He had piercing eyes like my father's, but they were filled with amusement and affection when he laid eyes on me. Warmth and compassion were something decidedly lacking in my father, and I saw in Dominic a chance to attain that. I was hungry for any kind of love I could get, starving for it, and I would do anything to get it. I waited until my father left the house on an urgent business call, and then I went to the guest room my father usually reserved for his new arrivals._

_The door was open only by a crack, and a flash of skin caught my eye. I leaned into the door so I could see more of the room. I didn't breathe for a few seconds. Muscle guys were nothing new to me, but he was a fine physical specimen. Some men were too thin, others had so many muscles that you could see every movement. He was perfect. He was chiseled but not overly so, and the only imperfection on his tanned skin was a scar that slashed diagonally across his upper back. It was uneven and ugly, but I valued scars. I didn't have any myself._

_His eyes landed on my hiding place. I was caught. I didn't try to hide. I didn't even have the grace to blush. Instead, I pushed the door open wider and stepped inside. It wasn't like he was naked. He wore black pants that accentuated his ass. "Hi." I sent him a sly smile when his eyes ran over my body. I wasn't dressed conservatively. My shirt was barely more than a strap that covered my breasts, and my leather pants clung to every curve perfectly. I was wearing plenty of makeup and my blonde wig. The thigh-high boots made me taller than he was. "I'm Lex. Do you want to come dancing with me?" I practically lived in the club since I had to share space with my father. He didn't seem to care as long as I didn't get caught._

_He gave me a charming grin. "Lex, as in Alexandra, Lionel's daughter?" I tilted my head and shrugged my shoulder. He chuckled good-naturedly. "I don't know. Going out with the boss's daughter on the first day of the job seems like an easy way to get fired." It wasn't an outright refusal. I approached him, and he went immediately still. I placed my hand on his chest. My manicured nails scraped lightly over his skin. One of them brushed over his nipple, and he hissed lightly. I could see dark arousal in his eyes and smiled._

_"He doesn't have to know anything. It'll be our little secret." I was only fourteen, but I could have been twenty-one for how I acted. I smoked, I drank, and I did all the drugs I could get my hands on. I had sex often. My mother had died little more than one year ago. Instead of dealing with it, I chose to ignore it and pursue other things. My father seemed so much more uptight lately. I didn't know what was wrong with him. With my free hand, I tugged him forward by the waist of his pants. Our lips barely touched. I could tell that he was smitten with me already. I brushed my lips against his cheek and spoke low into his ear. "Are you coming?"_

The amount of guilt I felt pulled me out of the memory. I had initiated all of it. My father may have planned it all, but it was my fault that I had fallen into his trap. Immediately after I finished the thought, Clark's hands were on either side of my face, and he kissed my lips softly and chastely. "It's not your fault. You were grieving." At the thought of my mother, tears sprang from my eyes. My father hadn't allowed me to cry on the day of her funeral. Every time he caught me with tears in my eyes, he told me to stop sniveling like a child and be more like a Luthor. I couldn't have mourned her properly, not with my life of drugs, alcohol, and sex. "Whatever he did to you, it was all your father's fault. It was his twisted, fucked-up plan." Clark rarely cursed. He surprised me with the F-bomb. I took the chance to look into his eyes and see that they were ocean blue with anger.

I could feel the overwhelming contempt Clark held for my father. It was mine. It didn't shock me that I wanted to kill my father for all that he had done to me, but it did stop me in my tracks to find out that Clark did, too. "You shouldn't feel that way, Clark. Not for me." I could see the pure suffering in his eyes. My pain was his pain, my memories were his. He knew that my father had set up Dominic's relationship with me, that Dominic's dominating nature led to games in the bedroom that involved whips, chains, and knives, and that later, he would be the one holding the chain while I sucked off one of my father's business partners as I was fucked by another one. That wasn't the root of it all, though. "Dominic tricked me. Before all the other men. He blindfolded me and pretended to fuck me. When he was done, he took off the blindfold, and it was my father on top of me."

Clark wanted to punch a hole in the wall. He wanted to run over to my father's estate and crush his windpipe. He wanted to avenge me and the pain I had to suffer because of my father's sick nature. A knot of shame formed in my stomach. Clark's gaze caught mine and didn't let go. "You can't blame yourself for this, Lex. We both know that your father is the one who's sick. He should be the one feeling all this pain and guilt. You're feeling remorse for something you didn't do and couldn't prevent." I knew in my heart that it was true. I had felt this for so long that it was hard to think any differently. "I love you. I won't let anything else happen to you."

I was damaged goods. I thought that I would spend the rest of my life alone and unloved. But the pure adoration and the amount of love in Clark's eyes broke through that barrier and forced my defenses to back down. Clark was going to love me no matter what my father had done to me. He loved me for what I was now, even if I was in pieces. We were so connected that he didn't even need to talk anymore. He told me everything with his thoughts and the intensity of his feelings for me. It was the truth in its purest form, and I gasped at the power of it. As if we were commanded to, we brought our lips together into a kiss. It was loving and sweet, and his hips rocked up slowly beneath mine. I had the control and the power to stop him. I didn't want to.

We made love slower than we ever had. We took our time to delight in every nuance of our unspoken thoughts and emotion, and the pleasure we felt was immeasurable. It built up slowly, but as we moved more purposefully and moaned quietly, I could feel the light building with it. I couldn't tear my eyes away from his even though they were stinging from the exposure to the air. The pull was too strong. I was more aware of myself than I had ever been in my entire life. At the same time, I knew every part of Clark intimately right down to the heat vision tickling his eyes and begging for release.

The orgasm was like nothing I'd ever felt. It was a few moments of ecstasy and joy, and then came the blinding pain. It hurt too much to even eke out a scream as something burned my upper back. It was worse than a flame. I felt like it was going to burn me up until there was nothing left, and it hurt down to the tips of my fingers and toes. The pain was shared by Clark, but his was located in his chest. It hurt so badly that I felt like I was going to die, and Clark, who was a stranger to physical pain, was having an even worse time of it. His pain and mine were combined to be one, and with a final burst of soul-shredding pain, all was calm and quiet.

Our heavy breathing was the only sound in the chilled air. I could see steam rising from Clark's chest, and then I saw the scar. It was black and looked like a tattoo drawn with solid lines. It was a pentagon with a symbol that almost resembled an eight or an S depending on how I looked at it. I immediately recognized it as part of Clark's language. I had his instincts and thoughts running through me so powerfully that I could almost see myself through his eyes. "What does the symbol mean?" Clark suddenly shifted his vision and looked behind me with widened eyes.

"I don't know," he said faintly. I turned to look in the mirror that Clark had propped against the wall and drew in a sharp breath. The same tattoo was on my upper back. It was the same size and shape as Clark's. I thought vaguely that if I stood with his chest pressed to my back, our tattoos would look exactly alike. It was even adjusted for our heights. "I think we just got married." I almost laughed at the idea, but I stopped myself in time. It was exactly like Jor-El had described it, although he didn't go into detail. Obviously, the symbol was some way of marking us for each other. Our way of owning the other.

"I thought sex came _after _marriage." We could only keep a straight face for a few seconds before we started laughing. Obviously, Kryptonian bonding worked a little differently from marriage on Earth. We didn't want any witnesses for this, of all things. My mind strayed to more important things. It would be easy for me to hide my mark, but what about Clark's? "What are you going to do in gym class?" I wasn't worried about anything except the showers and the changing rooms. After all, guys still changed in front of each other, and no one would have any qualms about looking at Clark's chest.

His hand brushed over my cheek. "Let's worry about it tomorrow. For now, I just want to enjoy being this close to you." I happily acquiesced. For once, I was able to toss aside my fears and reservations and trust him enough to know what was best. After the enormous amount of pain and long session of lovemaking, I fell asleep easily in the crook of my new husband's neck.

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	29. Unwanted Publicity

The scar on my back itched like hell every time my silk shirt shifted over it. Its raised edges had gone down overnight, but now the thing begged to be scratched every second of the day. The pain was almost preferable to this incessant itching. Clark's hand rubbed lightly over my back to temporarily alleviate the annoying itch, but I knew that his scar was bothering him just as badly. The difference was that I could scratch it with my hands without worrying about tearing open my skin. The bad thing was that I couldn't reach the entire area of my back. Clark could reach his, but one slip of his super strength would open the wound. It was the first time I realized just how careful he had to be all the time when he was picking up a glass or hugging another person. It gave me some insight into Clark's generally cautious personality and his indecisiveness.

"I'm decisive," Clark argued from the other side of the kitchen. I raised my eyebrows, painful reddish-blonde implants that my father had forced me to get along with my not-exactly-natural eyelashes, as I took a drink of orange juice from my glass to prevent myself from saying anything I might regret later. Then again, if he shared my thoughts, he knew exactly what I was thinking. It would've felt like a major invasion of privacy if it weren't so damn useful. I was constantly getting attacked by meteor mutants and my father's lackeys in my spare time. Having Clark tuned in to my every thought would make it a lot easier to deal with all of that. Not every girl had a six-foot-four alien boyfriend with super strength and speed to protect them.

"Right." I savored the taste of the bright, fresh fruit juice. "Because, when I think of Clark Kent, the first thing I think of is a take-charge personality." That might come back to bite me in the ass. I received a warm glower for my efforts and took another sip of orange juice to prevent him from tackling me into the nearest kitchen appliance. He wouldn't want me to choke, after all. Then again, the Clark I was thinking of was the one he portrayed in public and in front of his friends. The one that no one would ever suspect as being a superpowered alien from Krypton. A response to my insinuation lingered in the back of his mind, but it was one that included Dominic. We mutually decided that bringing him up wouldn't be the best thing to do right now.

We ate breakfast in comfortable silence. Martha and Jonathan were in town for the afternoon, so we had to reheat some of the leftovers in the fridge. Neither of us minded. It was still Martha's cooking. I couldn't live off of anything else if I tried right now. My best chefs were lousy compared to Martha. It was as if she had injected her familial warmth into her food. It was the definition of soul food. Clark and I both looked up at the same time when he heard Ryan's soft footsteps on the carpet upstairs. I was still amazed by just how much he could hear and how hard it must have been to filter everything out. The image of sleepy-eyed Ryan in his pajamas rubbing his eyes was priceless. His hair was mussed and stuck up in the back. For once, he looked his own age instead of the adult he sounded like.

"Morning, Dad." His soporific state seemed to wear off as he shifted his eyes to me. "Mom? You're up?" He looked surprised to see me. "I didn't hear you." I knew that he didn't mean with his ears. It was ironic that as soon as I lost one man rooting around in my head, I gained another. Then again, Ryan wasn't Kryptonian. Maybe Clark's heritage had something to do with the change in Ryan's powers. He could never read Clark, so it was only reasonable that he couldn't read me while I was so connected with Clark. The current occupant of my mind silently agreed with my conclusion, and I pondered how we were going to tell Ryan what had happened.

Clark stepped up for me. "You know how my Kryptonian father told us that we were going to bond?" Ryan nodded. Neither of us had explicitly informed him of this, but he picked up things all the time from my mind. It was a shame that it would stop, because that was part of our mother-son connection, but it would force us to connect in other ways. "We did last night. We can hear each other's thoughts. You're probably getting interference from my mind." I saw Clark twitch and absentmindedly rubbed his chest. He felt so pleased that I expected him to start kicking his foot like a dog, but he remained composed in front of our adopted son.

"We also got this Kryptonian symbol burned into our skin. Very romantic," I added sarcastically. Ryan's eyes went wide, and I knew that he wanted to see them. Clark pulled up his shirt to show the elated pre-teen. At first, Ryan traced it with his fingers, but when it became clear that the motion made Clark uncomfortable, he stopped. "It itches. Mine is on my back." Matching tattoos. I would never have thought I would do such a thing. It wasn't as if it was voluntary. Clark's thoughts protested my unhappiness with the symbol. It was a part of his culture, and I sensed that it meant something deeply personal. Rejecting it was comparable to rejecting his identity. I silently assured him that I was unconditionally in love with him.

"Cool! You got tattoos!" Ryan looked at Clark with his best puppy-dog eyes. His lower lip was drawn out to the point of pouting, and his hands came together in a praying gesture. "Can I get one? Please?" His voice pled with us, but the thought was so ridiculous that I had to laugh. Clark's lips spread into a grin. His eyes were bright green with amusement. It was touching that Ryan wanted to be part of our family through branding himself, but he was not getting tattooed anytime soon. Not even in the seediest spots in Metropolis who relaxed their rules for the identification-challenged.

"No," both of us said firmly, and Ryan's expression immediately fell. Seeing that kind of dejection reminded me that Ryan still felt like an orphan sometimes, but Clark dutifully affirmed that not getting things you wanted was a part of being a kid. It wasn't part of my childhood, I mused. Lionel had been swift to give me things I could use to entertain myself. It wasn't the kind of parenting style I endorsed. As if he were still tuned in to my thoughts, Ryan turned to me with his plaintive expression still in place. "You're too young. Maybe when you're older." Telling him "no" was one of the hardest things about being a parent. His excitement fizzled as he quietly left the room. Clark's thoughts told me to leave it alone.

It was a rare day of pure relaxation. Maybe it was only so calm because I was sharing Clark's thoughts, and his thoughts were always calm when there was nothing troubling him. His friends didn't care enough to stop by, but he didn't mind. It gave them more time together. None of Smallville's meteor mutants came crashing through the door, so all of us remained safe inside the quiet house. When Martha and Jonathan got home, we spent the evening watching a movie. I fell asleep.

I woke up in Clark's empty bed missing his warmth. I could already tell that he was having a busy day at school. He seemed to tap into my consciousness as soon as I was alert and sent me an update. Pete Ross had written Clark's name on the ballot for class president as a cruel-hearted joke. No one was going to vote for the sixteen-year-old outcast who had knocked up a twenty-one-year-old heiress who was disliked by everyone in the county. I told him so myself. He seemed to think that his chances were a little better than that, but he was going to pull out of the election anyways. I wanted to be president when I was younger. Then reality came crashing down on me. I could do it, theoretically, but it would take either a considerate amount of blackmail or a lot of hard work. With Daddy's company in my future, I hadn't exactly been trying at anything.

Not now, Clark reminded me. Now, I was in it. I glanced at the clock and noticed that I would have to get my ass moving in order to get to the Talon on time. I could have lied to myself and said that I wasn't afraid that Dominic would show up, but it wouldn't have helped any. Clark offered to ditch school and spend time with me, but we were already on the town's radar enough. If Clark started ditching classes, they would have every right to discriminate against us. It was better not to give them another reason to ostracize Clark.

I got dressed and ate lunch with Martha before I left for the Talon. The Mercedes was starting to get dirty from the dusty roads in Smallville, but I didn't have the time lately to wash it. Besides, driving around in a shiny car that was made in the current year wasn't the best way to get the townspeople on my side. It was bad enough that I drove a foreign car. The things that people discriminated against in small towns was almost ridiculous. Clark took a moment to add that Metropolis was pretty shallow itself and that I shouldn't be talking.

There was a woman waiting outside the Talon. I was immediately wary when I got out of my car. Sure enough, she was wearing a short skirt and a pretty smile. She had Metropolis written all over her. Her hair was red and long and her skin smooth, but behind her eyes, I sensed a cutting intelligence that was rare even for Metropolis women. She was a career bitch. Not to be trusted. "Can I help you?" I asked wearily as I unlocked the front door. I was tired of my father's games becoming a recurring event. She offered up another smile and a hand to shake after she followed me inside.

"Carrie Castle. I work for the _Metropolis Journal_." Oh God. A reporter. It was even worse than I thought. I fought not to roll my eyes as I took my hand back and started turning on the appliances and setting up shop. "It's quite a world, isn't it? One day, you're the heiress to billions of dollars. The next, you're working in a coffee shop and living on a farm." She was grating on my nerves. Clark wasn't pleased either, but he wasn't used to these kinds of reporters. I should have been handling this better than I was, but I was in no mood for the antics of the press.

"Did my father send you?" I struggled to keep my voice calm. If my father was looking to send me into a mental breakdown by sending a barrage of annoying people my way, he was nearly succeeding. I took a deep breath for the baby's sake. Castle's wide brown eyes protested the accusation. "Why else would a reporter from Metropolis come to Smallville? I'm sure you have better stories to write." She gave a knowing smirk across the counter.

"Come on, Miss Luthor. The talk of the town is that you're engaged to a sixteen-year-old boy. Not only is that immoral, it's illegal." The click of a tape recorder reminded me to be careful about what I said. It wasn't helping that Clark was freaking out inside my mind about me going to jail. Not only would Lionel bribe an entire jury for me, but I wasn't going to give them the evidence they needed to lock me away. I doubted that Lionel's life lessons included a stint in jail. Though, I may have underestimated the degree to which he was willing to throw me to the wolves.

"Last time I checked, it's not against the law to date a minor. What's against the law is having intimate relations with one." She almost laughed, but she suppressed it out of professional courtesy. And because the tape she had running would have recorded it. She cleared her throat and looked down at the fabric covering my stomach. Pretty soon, I would be out of my shirts and into Clark's for comfort's sake.

"Excuse me, but aren't you currently pregnant? Isn't that proof that you had sexual relations?" Clark believed that I had talked myself into a corner. Little did he know that the Luthor shark in me was circling the waters, begging to be freed on this haughty bitch. Her posture had devolved from that of an intelligent reporter to a gossiping teenager. She was leaning on the counter. Her eyes sparkled at the thought of victory being so close to her grasp.

"It certainly is." Before she could shut off the tape recorder, I interrupted her moment. "But there's no proof that it's his." Castle's eyes went wide. I was exchanging one slew of muckraking slop for another. "Then again, there's no evidence that it's not. I suppose that makes your story a little less exciting, doesn't it?" Clark mentally congratulated me for having more figurative balls than he did. While the reporter was still in shock, I leaned forward and made my tone a little more conversational. "That being said, why is it that I'm more interesting than my father? Shouldn't you be investigating him? Kissing the ground he walks on?"

A coy smirk told me all I needed to know. My father had been the one to tip her off about the article. It was an indirect relationship, but I knew that she would fuck him if it allowed her to climb higher on the career ladder. Clark told me to censor my thoughts, because the image of my father fucking anyone was disgusting. I didn't take that as an insult. "There's no story in success, Miss Luthor. Your father has been consistently doing well in business matters for years. In the meantime, you--" She stopped to pull something from her purse. I was treated to a view of newspaper clippings from the last few years. "--You have been dragging the Luthor name in the mud for the same amount of time. Do you know why you get more press coverage?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Because you're a walking, talking scandal."

Clark warned me not to attack her. I didn't intend to be arrested for assault. Instead, I did the exact opposite of what I was feeling and smiled. It was a slow, smooth smile of the victor in the argument. "The mere fact that I get more press coverage than my father is exactly why I'll be more _successful _than he'll ever be. Scandalous or not, people will still be talking about me in thirty years when he's nothing more than dust in the ground." I didn't care about the press. I wanted my father to hear this. Clark was silent on the other end of our mental connection. I knew that he felt a small amount of pride, but he also felt a tinge of fear. The finality in my words scared him. It scared me, too.

She shook her head from side to side in disbelief. "People are going to stop talking about you while you're playing Little Lex on the Prairie. Your appeal is already fading. The only reason I'm writing this story is so that I'll be the first to show the world how miserable your life has become." Her eyes narrowed mockingly. "You're always rebelling against your father, but pretty soon, the rebel act is going to get old. You'll just be a sad farmer's wife with stretch marks on your ass." She glowed with cockiness. "And, shaving your head? Not the best move, princess. What's the new fashion trend, lesbian or cancer patient?"

Now I did want to hit her. I pleaded with Clark to allow me just one bitch slap so I could put Castle in her place. "I'm sure my father can tell you when you're fucking him tonight. How much is he paying you to write this article?" Evasion. I thrived on the fact that her eyes went to the side for one, tiny second. I hit a nerve. "I hope you aren't just doing it for the sex." I was relieved when a customer walked in the door before she could respond. "Thank you, Miss Castle. Now get the hell out of my shop." She scoffed and looked at the customer for support, but the man glared at her. She was clearly more of an outsider than I was. She took the newspaper clippings and left in a huff.

The rest of the day went by normally. While I was focusing on profits and how to increase them, I was able to tune Clark out. Meanwhile, he at least attempted to pay attention to his classes and his friends. There were only about five people left in the shop at the end of the night. I was waiting for them to leave so that I could close up and go home to Clark. I could feel my stomach fill with warmth in response. The rush of emotion was Clark's way of telling me to hang in there. I was enjoying our newfound connection. I felt more relaxed. It could have been the change in career, too. Sitting behind the counter keeping an eye on a couple of jocks sipping coffee was much easier than babysitting workers at the crap factory. I had time to get my work done while I was at work so that I could go home and simply relax.

Thankfully, the kids didn't cause any trouble. They complimented me on the coffee and left. The back was already locked up, so all I had to do was turn everything off and lock the front door. When I was finally sitting in my Mercedes, I felt like I could breathe easier. The leather seats supported my aching muscles, which were aching more as my stomach got bigger. I tried to tell the little Kryptonian to slow down and stop growing so quickly, but it didn't want to listen to me. That didn't bode well for the future. I couldn't explain why my face split into a grin at the thought. Just the fact that I would have a future with my child was reassuring. It was starting to become one of the best things I had ever felt.

I knew that the baby coming out Kryptonian would have its ups and downs. Every mother wanted her child to be invulnerable, but at the same time, I saw the burden on Clark's shoulders that he carried with his powers. It felt like we were cursing the baby's life before it had even begun. Everything would be alright. It had to be. My car's engine purred to life. I found myself driving a little slower lately. I wanted to see Clark as soon as possible, but it wasn't just my life I was risking by speeding anymore. Plus, I couldn't afford the tickets. The Talon was doing well, but any unnecessary expenses might put a strain on the business. I didn't want to take any chances.

Here I was, finally settling down to a normal life, and my father detested me for it. He had berated me for my whole life to obey the rules that society had set. I wasn't obeying all the rules, but I was working on it. I wasn't doing drugs. I wasn't drinking or smoking. I felt the most contented that I had ever felt in my entire life. I never would have thought that I would enjoy being a mother, but now, I couldn't wait. It was exhilarating. It was tangible evidence of me and Clark, and it was someone that I knew I could love unconditionally. I didn't care about being the gossip of Smallville, and now Metropolis. I cared about what it would feel like the moment I held my baby in my arms for the first time.

I prayed that the baby would come out a natural-born Kent instead of a Luthor. We just had bad genes and maniacal inclinations. But Clark was my balance. I only hoped that his influence reached our child. I didn't want it to be like me. The drive home seemed shorter than usual. My head was clouded with thoughts and daydreams. I stepped out of the Mercedes, and my mind reached out almost naturally for Clark's presence. This connection had only been active for a day, but it felt as if I could never live without it again. He was in the loft. I stepped into the barn. The wooden stairs creaked under my weight as I climbed them. It felt like destiny. If Cassandra Carver had seen us like this, what was there to be so afraid of?

Clark was sprawled out over the couch. It looked about two sizes too small for his tall, muscular frame. His bright red t-shirt rode up his stomach to bare an inch of golden skin. His hands came together at the back of his head to show off his fantastic biceps. Beautifully blue-green eyes stared up at me lazily from across the room, but the glitter in them betrayed his interest. The warm night produced a sheen of moisture on his skin and made his jet-black locks stick to his forehead. He needed his hair cut. There was a curl hanging low over one of his eyes. At that moment, all I could think was, how did I get so damn lucky for him to stare at me like that? Like I was the only one in his life who really mattered, even though I knew it wasn't true. Like he would love me for the rest of my life, faults and all.

"Long day?" His voice was barely above a murmur, but it was reinforced with the same thought that played in my mind like an echo. He wasn't wearing any jeans; it was too muggy for that. Instead, he had blue cotton boxers on that showed the majority of his toned legs, which hung off the edge of the sofa. His feet were like his hands, almost too big for his body but perfectly so. I crossed the room and sat directly across from him in the folding chair used for guests. The TV was turned off. All I could hear was the soft summer air stirring outside and the melodic chirp of crickets. I could see the stars clearly in the midnight black of the sky, stars so bright that it was hard to believe that I'd never seen them in Metropolis.

"Not anymore." All the stress of the day simply melted away. It was as if his mere presence was the sun breaking dawn on my night sky. I couldn't give a shit about Carrie Castle and her article at that moment. All I could think about was Clark. I could tell that he was relaxing in the same way. The tension in his muscles had faded since I had first arrived, and all we were doing was sitting within a foot of one another. I was almost shaking from his nearness when I leaned forward to kiss him. It was his soft, plush lips playing with mine in a slow, teasing manner. His hands came to rest on my cheeks to hold me in place as he deepened the kiss. I slid from the chair into his lap. I didn't care about how hot it was outside. I was burning from the inside out, and the humidity on the outside was nothing compared to the fire inside.

I continued my part of the kiss down his neck. His favorite spot was right under the jaw. My teeth scraped against the impossibly smooth patch of skin directly below his chin. A low growl escaped his throat that thrilled me down to my toes. "I could have killed Carrie Castle. And Dominic." I bit the same area as hard as I could without breaking my teeth on his skin, and the resulting hiss was encouraging. "And your father." I soothed the area with my tongue and drew back so that I could look into his eyes. They were more green than blue when he was aroused. They had the slightest bit of red in them when he was angry.

"Do you _really _want to talk about my father right now?" I made my point by grinding my hips against his. His hands gripped my hips and brought them to a standstill. His grip wasn't hard enough to bruise, but I could sense that he meant business. I gave a small sigh. "Clark, I've been thinking about my father for the better part of my life. Don't I deserve a break?" My irritation wasn't necessarily directed at Clark, but I could feel it growing inside me. I wished that Lionel would just leave me alone. That would be a miracle, and those didn't happen often in my life. Clark was one of the only ones so far. Ryan was another. The baby inside me was bargaining for the top slot on the list.

"I don't think it's a good idea to ignore him." I almost rolled my eyes. "Lex, you of all people know what your father is capable of. What if he does drag this whole incident into court? I know that you think he won't, but it's a possibility that he will." Orange wasn't my color. I took the opportunity to lie down on top of Clark. It was oddly comfortable to lie down on a plush bed of invulnerable flesh and muscle.

"He wouldn't be able to stand the publicity. The Luthor name would be dragged through the mud. He wants me to go back to Metropolis with him. Going to jail is not part of the plan." It was depressing that I could get into my father's head so easily. I was used to being manipulated. Clark's hand rubbed my lower back to soothe me. I shifted so that I wasn't lying directly on my stomach and then his other hand started to rub my baby bump. "If they did DNA tests on the baby, we would be fucked. They would know that it wasn't human." A pang of protective sadness went through my chest. "I just have to trust that he won't do anything about it." Trusting my father was the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life. I hated the control he wielded over me, even now.

"You know him better than I do. I trust you." His deep, rumbling voice didn't shake once. I wasn't used to being trusted. It was a big responsibility. I only hoped that I could maintain that trust.

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	30. My Soul Burdened Be

_A/N: I apologize profusely for not posting for God-knows-how-many months. I have been under some very heavy stress lately, and it has eased off. Hopefully, I can get back to what I love: writing. Thanks for everyone who's been so patient and is reading this now. Love you guys. Please review when you're done!_

I couldn't stop the nightmares. They would wake Clark and me up in the dead of night. It didn't help when they came more than once a night. I would've been an insomniac had Clark not soothed me back to sleep. Even in the Kansas heat, the warmth of Clark's body was always comforting. He could draw my back against his chest and allay my fears just by touch. I wouldn't let my father win. Not this game. I had control of the outcome for once, and I didn't want to fail. I wouldn't only be failing myself. I would fail Clark, Ryan, Martha, and Jonathan. I would fail the baby girl that had been in my stomach for five months and had managed to steal my heart. There were good dreams intermingled with the bad. I would see a little girl running through the field with her long, red hair flowing behind her. I could never see her face, but I knew she was there.

I knew that it had to be the baby. Clark's connection with her was just as strong as mine if not stronger. I saw tears in his eyes the first time I dreamed about her. They were filled with emotion. I could tell that the strongest one was pride, but I could also feel the warmth of love. I got the sense that Kryptonian fathers weren't the type to pack up and leave their children. He was fiercely protective of the both of us. At times, it was overbearing. But in the moments that I needed him and he was there, it was all worth it. If there was anything that I wasn't used to in my life, it was the stability of our love. My past was full of intense, brief romantic experiences. Most were sexual. I couldn't think of one single relationship that ever felt real to me. Not like this. None of my former lovers would have held me close, despite the sweat and tears, and whispered strengthening words into my ear.

I could beat this. Dominic and my father may have had control over my life before, but it would never happen again with Clark protecting me. I had finally become something more than just another Luthor; I was Alexandra Kent. At least, I would be in two days. I would legally and officially become part of the Kent family, but I knew that I was already there. So much had changed in six months. I went from spoiled brat to loving wife, daughter, and mother. I had the parents I had always longed for in the darkest of nights. I had my own man of steel to balance out my penchant for attracting danger. Ryan and my unborn child were two of the things that I had never wanted before, but now I couldn't imagine life without them. I was the protective mother with a feral instinct to give my life for my children. I was miles away from where I had been before.

I couldn't turn into a scared shrinking violet. Not for anything or anyone. A man's touch would not make me break down. All I had to do to win was to overcome Dominic and my father. It sounded so simple, but it felt so difficult. I had been at my father's side for so long that to turn against him seemed unnatural. I couldn't go back to him ever again. Going back to my father and begging for mercy was pathetic. I was _not _pathetic. I had made my choice and picked Clark and my baby over my father, and I would stick to it. It wasn't about making a decision and sticking to it. It was about my life and the lives that were now connected to me. There were people around me that I didn't have before. I had support. It wouldn't be easy to stay strong against my father's iron will, but I never liked taking the easy road anyways.

I felt disgusted when I thought of what my father had done to me. How could I have ever allowed him to retain so much control over me? I had been brainwashed into believing that my father was all-powerful and that my life would be nothing without him. Clark had proven that wrong just by existing. I was infuriated that I felt so insecure because of something that my father had done to me. It was he who had done it, he who put his hands on a teenage girl, and he who would pay the price and burn in Hell when his day of judgment passed. My faith in myself had been restored enough to know that it was never my fault. Any court in the country that wasn't bribed by Lionel would say the same.

It was hard to allow myself to be that vulnerable. I had to stare my darkest fears in the face without falling apart. Even when I did, Clark was there to pick up the pieces. His touch was so loving and gentle, but I couldn't deny the power behind it. He could crush my bones to dust if he wanted to, but he wouldn't do it. Not in a million years. If I somehow became the creature in the blackest corner of my soul, Clark would never kill me. If it meant saving hundreds of lives, he still wouldn't do it. There was no deception between us. We knew each other's every thought. When my thoughts took a turn towards maudlin, he would soothe me with a stroke of his hand, the curve of his lips, or the light in his eyes. The smallest things could cheer me up. They were mostly irrelevant to what I was thinking about, but who was I to resist smiling at the way Clark's fingers drummed against his thigh when he heard music? Or the way his lips parted ever-so-slightly when he fell asleep. The knowledge that the most powerful man in the world had a weakness for frosted corn flakes was something that only a few select people on Earth possessed.

My life had been filled with so much darkness and pain before. Clark was a brilliant, shining light that I couldn't resist. Like a moth attracted to flame, I was a dark, odd creature who lingered close to the light it couldn't attain by itself. If I were to bond with him, I had to give up part of myself. I was fine with that so far. It was far more bearable than life under Lionel's thumb. I was my own person where I had never been before. It had been so frightening to give up my precious control and hand it over to something that was literally alien to me, but I had achieved a freedom that I clung to madly. Working at the Talon was a steady, predictable life. It was everything I had ever wanted without knowing it. I wasn't overworked, but I had enough to keep me busy. I was making a profit that would be enough to sustain the family for at least a year after the baby was born should I decide not to return to the Talon.

Lana had been a miracle. What I thought was an empty-headed cheerleader had bloomed into a capable young woman with an uncanny marketing ability. She was the one who had put the Beanery out of business by informing the right people that they were behind on their paperwork. She was the one who dug out the information from one of the other waitresses, who was fired for stealing immediately after she gave Lana the information. She was so goddamned crafty that I would have fallen in love were I not already smitten with Clark. She was no danger to our relationship. Instead, she was a gigantic help to my business. The ailing theatre had been on its last leg when I bought it, but now it was surviving and thriving. We were packed at all times.

She put on a sweet face for the customers, but I saw the borderline manipulative behavior that she exhibited. It was a good thing that she was our ally and not our enemy. Nell and I had long conversations before both of our stores were set to open about her nymph-like niece. I would have almost believed the cotton candy and bubble gum act were it not for the moments of cunning and intelligence that went by so quickly that I would have missed them had I not been watching. Lana had always been like that, Nell said, after her parents died. The little girl seemed to almost develop another personality under the fairy princess attire. I saw the picture from the day of the meteor shower. The little girl's pink outfit was dirty and stained. Her face was covered in dust and sweat, and her face was contorted in tragedy. Other people saw sadness or a whining infant; I knew that it was the fury of betrayal. God had struck down her parents, the two people in the world who would give her unconditional love. It was no wonder that she had some darkness in the depths of her heart.

After some exposition, it didn't surprise me to find that Lana and I were cut from the same cloth. Even when my father was somewhat loving, it still wasn't the love I was supposed to feel. I walked through life knowing that my father didn't love me. Losing my hair only confirmed that fact. The hatred was growing even before my mother died, when I exited my class into the hallway to find reporters swarming around me. School officials were trying to pull them back. Through the shouts, I could hear the question that would change my life forever. How did I feel about my mother's death? That was the first time I'd heard about it.

The answer? It felt like a kick to the chest. Like losing my balance and falling backwards with that suddenly urgent feeling in my chest that screamed I was falling into the unknown. Like missing a stair on the way up with a jerk in my gut that told me I had made a fatal error and then suffering the consequences of falling. There was the shooting pain of my shins hitting the stairs, trying to stop my downwards momentum, and the desperation of flinging my arms upwards and reaching for anything to steady myself again only to find nothing but empty air. It felt like losing my breath, mouth open and lungs helpless to draw in air that wouldn't come. I was stricken with the knowledge that I would never see my mother again, and all I wanted to do was that very thing. I wanted what I couldn't ever have again. The smell of her exquisite perfume, the soft strands of her hair tickling my face, and the sight of pride in her eyes, green as the grass in a summer field.

Lionel, who was Daddy back then, ordered for her things to be packed up and shipped away that very day. I came home from boarding school to find the front door open and unfamiliar faces hauling away my mother's beautiful dresses in silk, chiffon, and Egyptian cotton. It wasn't the lack of the expensive fabric that tore at me. It was the fact that she had worn them, some of them only once or twice, but I remembered her in each and every one. I threw myself at one of the boxes and attempted to tug it out of the man's strong hands only to hear my father's voice in a sharp reprimand telling me to let the man do his job. I faced my father with every inch of my pent-up fury and asked him why he was doing this. Why he was erasing her from our lives.

Poised as ever, Lionel stood straight and lifted his bearded chin in a haughty manner. There were no signs of grief on his unmarred features. No red-rimmed eyes, no swollen lips, no tear-stained cheeks. Everything that I saw when I looked in the mirror that day. He was no broken widower. His black cashmere sweater was pristine. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his creamy white slacks and looked down upon me as if he were a God. Behind his designer-brand wire-rimmed glasses, his amber eyes were hard and unforgiving. It was time to move on, he said. There would be no crying in that house, no pathetic grieving. "She's gone, Lex. We must accept it now. There's no sense in holding on to useless belongings." He was a lying hypocrite. I hadn't figured it out until I was nineteen years old.

When I first stepped foot in the penthouse that my mother had left me, the one that was legally in my name and not Lionel's, I explored every inch of it. It wasn't until midnight that I had found the closet where everything was stored away. Her old clothes still smelled like her, fresh as if she were right there in the darkness with me, and I cried for more than an hour clinging to it. It was such a bittersweet joy to be holding her belongings again, because my father had not moved on like he said. Instead, he had ferreted her belongings away for himself in the hopes that I would never find them. He kept them for himself and selfishly locked them away from me. He had never breathed a word about them. The clothes never moved from that closet, because I was so afraid that if he knew I had found them, he would destroy them.

Lionel always wanted to take away what was precious to me. As I watched Clark sleep underneath me, I knew that he was one of those precious things. My father would rip him apart given the chance. That was why I was being extra cautious. It was a near thing that I had caught Dominic in the barn before he started going through Clark's things. I had just happened to be in the loft for a moment of solace when I heard the signature creak of the third stair leading up to Clark's Fortress of Solitude. I sat completely still and watched from my perch as my father's greasy henchman made his way up the stairs and into Clark's most private sanctum.

For the first time in front of Dominic, I felt completely and totally in control. I finally saw him for exactly what he was: a slimy piece of shit that was stuck to the bottom of my father's shoe. There was nothing powerful about a self-serving snake. My father was only using him as a pawn to get what he wanted. He would find no information here. I asked him what he was looking for, and the way he twitched in surprise told me that he hadn't seen me in the corner. He had been hoping not to get caught. It made me smile. The verbal battle that ensued wasn't important. It was the ending that was classic.

Jonathan was silent coming up the stairs. He knew to skip the third stair. In the middle of a sentence, Dominic was struck in the back of the head with the butt of a shotgun. I was grateful for Jonathan's rare brutality. He showed me where he kept the duct tape and only nodded when I told him that I was going for a ride. I bound Dominic's hands and feet, covered his lips, and threw him in the trunk of my Mercedes.

Clark didn't approve of the extreme behavior. I didn't care. He wasn't in the position where he could disappear. He was in the middle of investigating the meteor mutant who could control bees. He was starting to slowly regain his friendships with Chloe and Pete. If he disappeared on them now, they would never forgive him. Their friendship was more important than keeping me from teaching my father a lesson.

I drove to Metropolis to meet my father. Lionel arrived looking pleased until I opened the trunk. I told him to keep his nose out of my business, or else next time he would find his men buried in a field. It was one of the rare times that I caught my father by surprise. His face was pale as I jerked Dominic out of the trunk. His body hit the pavement hard. While I was shutting the trunk, my father's eyes met mine. I thought about where I would be if he had convinced me to get an abortion. I saw the slightest flinch on Lionel's face before I turned and went home.

Clark's beautiful cheekbones were lit by the moonlight. The concave parts of his face were left in the shadows. The moonbeams traced the long, straight line of his nose, outlined the strong square shape of his jaw, and reflected rare light off of his inhumanly soft hair and eyelashes. I still envied him for his hair. Any human would. Models would come at him with scissors in their hands. I didn't know just how far they would get. Could his hair be cut? Did he ever have to shave? They were questions that had not crossed my mind before. I swept my thumb as gently as I could over the hollow of his cheek to feel for stubble. There was none. Come to think of it, there had never been a shadow there, either. Clark's pubescence mocked me.

He was so stunning. In any light, to see Clark as anything but alien to this world seemed impossible. Was any teenager ever this gorgeous? Obviously, I had thought so once. The thought that he wasn't of this race was one of my first upon meeting Clark. I thought that he was an angel. I should've trusted my first impression. Had he never told me what he was, the secrecy and the lies would have divided us. There was no doubt in my mind about that. There was something fundamentally different about him. That much was evident just by associating with him. On the outside, he projected a clumsy, innocent farm boy, but once he started lying through his teeth, the fact that he was hiding something was immediately apparent.

I had to protect him. The night I returned home from Metropolis, I looked through all of Clark's notebooks with him and his parents. There were Kryptonian symbols drawn everywhere. They were doodled in the margins of history notes and sometimes took up entire pages by themselves. We all decided that it was best to burn them. Ryan had fallen asleep on the couch as we tossed the paper into the fire. All the evidence that was left of Clark being special was locked in the storm cellar. The space ship was the hardest thing to conceal. The tarp hid it pretty well, but Jonathan needed a better lock on the doors. He agreed with me. I wanted nothing less than a fingerprint-accessible lock, but that wasn't possible without spending a large amount of money. We were still trying to find a solution to that.

There were times when I came home to find Clark sitting in the storm cellar by himself. The blue glow of Jor-El's essence lit Clark's features like the moon did now. He learned so much about his home from hours of talking to his dead alien father. We learned that when the baby was born, she would take the Kryptonian name of her father as her last name. She would not receive her powers until puberty. I was shaken by that one. Clark had his powers from the time he first appeared on this planet and absorbed the rays of the yellow sun. Our little girl would have to go years without being invulnerable. It seemed to strike at the center of my soul. If we were lucky, she would be a survivor and have none of my impulse.

Then came the fear that something might go wrong with her. What if she was like me when I was a teenager? Was there some kind of gene for evil, passed from Lionel to me and then from me to her? In my mind, she was the exact opposite of evil. She would have genes from Clark, too. His goodness would overcome the worst of my past. I hoped. I hated the uncertainty of it. I didn't like relying on chance, and I had been doing it more often than not lately. It was luck that Lionel didn't intervene with Ryan's adoption. What if we didn't get lucky and Lionel ruined the wedding? His absence made me nervous. But his presence would be worse.

I had to bide my time and wait patiently. Whatever Lionel was planning, it wasn't making me feel any better to worry about it. I couldn't read his mind. Perhaps it was a reminder, a nudge, that he was still in control. After the incident with Dominic, he needed to assert his dominance again. He was thinking. He was trying to drive me insane. Both were possible options.

I buried my face in Clark's neck. Instinctively, he shifted to wrap his arms around me and bring me closer to him. The full-sized bed was still too small for the both of us, especially with my growing belly, but a queen-sized bed was out of the question. The Talon was profitable, but it wasn't enough to start spending. I had to be extremely careful with my finances. Martha and Jonathan didn't have the extra money to spend on a baby. I had to get as much money together as I could. I was lucky that I had bought the Talon so that I had a source of income that wouldn't require my presence at all times. It was hard work, but it would be worth it.

I didn't want to raise my daughter in Smallville, but I had no choice. Metropolis seemed to be a much better option from a mother's point of view. There was a new meteor freak running loose every week. Not only did I want to survive for her, but I wanted for her life to be as free from trouble as possible. The damsel in distress position wasn't what I wanted her to experience. Her father belonged to Smallville first, ensuring the safety of others. I anticipated many long nights spent alone trying to get the baby to sleep.

Would I be like my mother? I couldn't imagine smothering a child, something so small and defenseless, to keep it from crying. What if her disease became mine? A tear slipped from the corner of my eye as I saw my mother standing over Julian's crib with a look of blank distress on her face. She knew what she did, but she couldn't understand it. Her mind wouldn't allow her to process it.

As many bad memories as Smallville held, there were good things here. Martha and Jonathan Kent were the ideal grandparents. There was a sense of community here that Metropolis would never have. The townspeople would learn to fawn over her, even if she was the daughter of a Luthor. She would win them over, just like she won my loyalty. Ryan couldn't leave here, either. I couldn't expect that of him or Clark.

Still, there was a pull to go home. Metropolis had been my niche, full of things that I knew intimately. Some of them were terrible, but it was familiar. I yearned for the familiar. Lying here in a farmhouse pregnant was almost surreal when I thought of my old life. At least there would be no Lionel here. He would give up, pack his bags, and leave. He would give up on me eventually.

If I needed more incentive to stay, all I had to do was look at Clark's peaceful features. I couldn't break his heart. I couldn't leave him. In such a short time, I had become absolutely dependent on him. I needed him as much as I needed oxygen. Without him, there would be nothing. It was a damn good thing that he was invulnerable, at least for the moment.

I glanced up at Clark's face and was only mildly surprised to see his eyes staring steadily back at me. His fingers gently pressed against my back and dragged the pressure down in a therapeutic massage. There was a phantom of a faint itch on my back. I could have done without the tattoo. But it was his mark on me, claiming me for his own. The same was true for the mark on his chest. Something that would remind him of me. I was his, and he was mine. Neither of us would have it any other way without tearing the world apart.


End file.
